The Space Between
by Alexandri
Summary: Grace and Luke have always had feelings for each other but nothing's ever come of it. One night forces them to re-examine their relationship, no matter how much Grace fights it. Can Luke overcome her fears and make her see that they belong together?
1. March 16 through 19, 2009

A/N: All right, y'all. Here it is. The first chapter of my Grace/Luke fic. I decided to go ahead and post it because it's been done for days but I'm blocked on chapter two and didn't want to hold on to it anymore. This is going to be a _really_ long fic and I'm not entirely sure how it will all go down. So bear with me.

For this chapter to make sense, it's imperative that you read the December chapter of "We've Only Just Begun" first. In fact, the next chapter (the one I'm blocked on) picks up a few hours after the end of WOJB, so just read the whole thing.

Chapter Theme Song (because I make soundtracks to my stories): _She Will Be Loved_ by Maroon 5.

Enjoy. Alexandri

* * *

Luke had no idea why Grace was still here. Three days had passed since she'd shown up unexpectedly at his door soaked to the skin and radiating such sadness that he'd been struck speechless. When he'd finally found his voice, he'd babbled about insignificant things: the happenings of Cambridge, the best place to go for coffee or hamburgers, the paper he was working on for one of his honors classes. She'd born it all with a slight smile. She even seemed grateful that he hadn't asked her any questions. But that didn't make him feel any less like a bumbling idiot in the face of her miserable silence.

"I'm not five, Girardi."

He looked down to find her gazing up at him, indignation in her eyes, amusement on her lips. He'd been buttoning her up in his overcoat. She barely had anything suitable for Massachusetts' late winter weather. "I'm responsible for you while you're here. I don't want you to get sick."

Grace rolled her eyes at that. "Let me repeat. I'm not five."

"No," he agreed thoughtfully, "but you're upset about something. You're hurting. When someone's hurting, you take care of them." Luke plucked a scarf off of the coat rack behind him so he wouldn't see Grace's reaction to his statement. He wrapped it securely around her neck.

"So are scarves like a family obsession?" Grace asked softly.

Luke glanced up to find unshed tears glittering in her eyes. "Joan's the only one with an addiction," he answered, unsure if he should ignore her tears or wipe them away.

She lifted her hands, hidden in his too-big gloves, then dropped them. Her shoulders sagged and she screwed her face up as if that would dissolve her tears. Quickly, she blinked, but they spilled down her cheeks anyway. He'd never seen her look so forlorn and defeated. "I don't know how to make it stop," she whispered.

He took her into his arms then and held her tight. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, scrubbing it on his coat to erase the evidence of her pain. Luke was vaguely aware that he'd be late if they didn't get going, but found he didn't care. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he absently rubbed her back as she took long, shuddery breaths to compose herself. Finally, he heard her say, "You're going to be late for class. Will they lock you out if you're late?"

"Maybe." Luke shrugged. It didn't really matter to him.

"We might still make it in time if we hurry," she said, pulling out of his arms. "Come on."

"Wait a minute." He put a skullcap on her head, making sure it was a snug fit. At her disbelieving expression, he said, "I told you. I don't want you to get sick."

"Do you always worry this much?" she asked as they hurried to his car.

"No," he answered. The truth was Luke worried about very little. Almost everything else in his life was easily taken care of. Simple. Explicable. But then Grace had never been any of those things.

* * *

"I have to go to lab this morning. I can't take you with me. Will you be all right by yourself?"

Grace closed the _Scientific American_ magazine she'd been trying to find some interest in and glared up at him with what she hoped was an exasperated expression. "I thought I told you yesterday, Girardi, that I'm not five. The same thing applies today."

"Yeah, I know, but my lab is lengthy and I don't want to leave you alone too long."

"Not only can I entertain myself, though not with this," she said as she tossed the magazine on his coffee table, "I'm also fully capable of taking care of myself. I don't need a babysitter."

Luke dropped his bookbag to the floor with a heavy thud and sat beside her. "I know you're highly self-sufficient. However, you're here because something painful happened and you need someone else to look out for you so you can deal with it. Let me do that. Let me look out for you."

After a brief silence, she said, "I promise to be here when you get back. Your apartment won't be trashed nor will it be burned to the ground. And I promise I won't do myself any bodily harm. Have I covered everything?"

He glared at her for a moment, then smiled. "Smart aleck."

She grinned at him. "But you knew that already."

"Yeah, I guess I did." He got up and grabbed his bag before turning back to her. "I should be back in about two, two and a half hours."

"Okay," Grace said, making a greater show of her annoyance than she actually felt. "Go already."

Luke laughed and brushed a kiss across her mouth. "Two and a half hours tops." Then he left, leaving an astonished Grace on his couch.

* * *

When they'd gone to the video store, Luke had not expected to find himself on his couch with Grace's head in his lap watching _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_. She'd shrugged when he'd looked at her, eyebrows raised in obvious question. "I really like this movie," she'd said simply. So they'd rented it, ordered a large vegetarian pizza (again, he hadn't asked any questions) and settled in to watch it.

"I'm convinced the director was on some heavy psychotropic drugs when he made this movie," she said.

"Yet you chose to watch it."

"It's so weird and creepy."

"Creepy?"

"Can you honestly say the Oompa Loompas don't freak you out?"

Luke looked at the screen as the overly tanned, green-haired midgets began to sing. He had to admit that there was something about them that seemed a bit sinister. "Point taken."

They were halfway through the movie, trading random comments and laughing at the same parts, when Grace shivered. "Cold?" he asked.

"No."

Her voice was soft, husky, almost wistful. It drew his gaze to her. That's when he noticed he was running his hand through her hair. And that she shivered whenever his fingers grazed her neck. "Grace?"

"Don't." She turned her head and looked at him. Her blue eyes, usually fierce and strong, were quiet and shadowed. "Please?"

It was torture not to ask her all the questions piling up in his mind. What happened to her? Why was she here? How could she be so open and yet more distant than ever simultaneously? What did any of this mean? Why did she shiver at his touch? But the plea in her eyes, something he instinctively knew she wasn't aware of, made him keep his questions to himself. _There'll be time,_ he told himself. _The right time will come and the mystery that is Grace Polk will be revealed_. "What do you need me to do?"

"I don't know." She turned her head back to the television. He followed her lead. "I liked that hair thing you were doing."

Luke smiled and resumed combing his fingers through her hair. This would do for now.

* * *

She didn't want to move. Not that she'd ever admit it, but lying here in Luke's arms after crying for the first time since Adam's mother died seemed perfectly natural. Absolutely right. Inevitable. It terrified her. But then her feelings for Luke had always terrified her.

Grace had never been able to put her finger on it, but something about Luke called to the vulnerability she refused to show. When she was with him, she wanted to tell him all of her sorrows and sins, her joys and dreams, her fears and her triumphs. She wanted him to _know_ her. It took all of her considerable willpower sometimes to keep her mouth shut, but she knew that it was for the best. The less he knew, the better.

_So why are you here_, she asked herself for the thousandth time. _Why didn't you go to Adam or to your parents? Why did you drive over four hundred miles to Luke?_ Because Adam may have come out of himself, but he hadn't really come back to her. He belonged to Joan and she needed someone to wrap around herself like a blanket against the cold. And, even though her current pain was a family sorrow, she wasn't ready to trust them with her yet. The Polanski family portrait didn't have "functional" stamped on it for a reason.

Luke, on the other hand, made her feel safe. She'd never understood how a scrawny geek like him, whom she could easily beat up if the urge struck, could make her feel like that. Yet, whenever he was near, she felt like she could lay down her shield because he'd protect her, look out for her. She hadn't felt like that since before Aaron left home. And, though she could take care of herself, she liked feeling like there was someone she could turn to when things got to be too much. Luke didn't need her to be levelheaded or the voice of reason or objective. He didn't need her to be strong. Grace really didn't know what he got out of their relationship at all.

A glance told her he was asleep. Carefully, Grace removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them on the end table. She took the opportunity to study him. She concluded that he would never be ruggedly handsome. Luke, like Adam, had a sort of eternal youthfulness about him—something she'd never had, even as a kid. Cupping his jaw in her hand, she slid her thumb across his cheekbone, delighting in the sweep of his eyelashes against her skin. They seemed impossibly long, the kind of lashes women spend outrageous amounts of money to have. He shifted beneath her—his cheek pressing into her palm, his arm tightening around her waist, his leg sliding between hers. Swallowing, she pulled her hand off of his face.

She was sprawled across him now. Luke was surprisingly firm. His hand rested on her hip, squeezing it ever so slightly. His fingers brushed across her hip bone and caressed her flannel-covered thigh. Suddenly, she was extremely conscious of the fact that she only wore a pair of panties and his oversized button-down.

He shifted again, turning on his side and wedging her between his body and the back of the couch. Their bodies were perfectly aligned and his mouth just a few inches from hers. Grace felt shockingly aware of him. Her breasts were pressed flat against his chest. Their legs were tangled together. She tried to get off the sofa without disturbing him, but he simply tightened his arms around her and buried his face in the side of her neck.

Desire flared in the pit of her stomach. Closing her eyes, Grace slowly exhaled. She was not supposed to feel like this. Not now. Not when things had gone wrong again. How could she feel like this after what happened? The answer was both simple and complicated. It was Luke and her feelings for him had never made sense. She could deny them, but she could never control them. So she lay there, strangely at home in his arms yet troubled by her comfort.

Grace sighed. Her time here was up. She had thought to stay through Friday and leave early Saturday morning. But that couldn't happen now because she wanted him. She wanted to lose herself in him, just for a little while, and forget about everything else. Doing that would only muddle things further for both of them. Luke deserved better than that.

_Yes, it's time to leave_, she thought as fatigue closed her eyes. _First thing in the morning_. _But_, she thought as she nestled into his warmth, _this is nice. I'll just get a little sleep first._


	2. A Night to Remember

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I've been debating the direction I wanted to take this. I'm still not entirely confident, but I am now committed. Here's hoping this works. R&R. Alexandri.

Dedication: To Carole, whose reviews prompted me to get off my butt and buckle down with this chapter. Thanks.

Story Theme Song: I forgot to mention this last chapter. _The Space Between_ by Dave Matthews Band from their _Everyday_ album is the story theme. It really reminds of Grace and Luke.

Chapter Theme: _Say Goodbye_ by Dave Matthews Band off of their album _Crash._

* * *

Toeing off the Nikes she'd meant to leave in the Jeep, Grace carefully unzipped her wine-colored bridesmaid dress and let it slide to the floor. For the first time since she'd put it on some eight hours earlier, she felt free. Quickly stripping off the rest of her restrictive garments, Grace left them in a heap and rooted around in her dresser for some nightclothes.

Exhaustion forced her to take her time and time allowed her to think over the day. Both the wedding and the reception had been beautiful—a testament to Joan's vision and determination to create a special day. Grace, however, didn't relive the beauty of the day. From running around doing Joan's errands to escorting four inebriated ex-teachers home, Grace felt like she'd done more work today than she did at the radio station in a week. Now all she wanted was to climb into bed, pull the sheets over her head, and sleep the weekend away.

Instead, she sat cross-legged on her bed and gave her hair a thorough brushing. As the steady strokes soothed the tension from her body, she let herself think about Luke.

_After she'd dropped off Ms. Lishack, now Mrs. Mason, she'd only had one more stop, and then, if God was merciful, nothing else would come up and she could go home. She'd slid behind the steering wheel of her beat-up Jeep and she looked at her last passenger. "Ready to go home?"_

_Luke had stared back at her and grimaced. "Honestly, no."_

_Grace sighed and collapsed in her seat. So God wasn't merciful, at least not tonight. "Why not?" It was all she could do to keep a whine out of her voice._

_"Because I know what I'll be going home to: my parents sitting in the living room, already halfway through a bottle of Chianti, listening to maudlin 70s music, and pouring over Joan's baby pictures." Luke smiled apologetically at her. "I love my family but a guy can only take so much."_

_Returning his smile, she started the car and pulled off. _

_Looking at her with panic-stricken eyes, Luke pleaded, "Don't make me go back there."_

_Grinning now, Grace continued driving without giving a response. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud when Luke folded his arms over his chest and muttered, "Typical." _

_Ten minutes later, she parked in front of her apartment. "Come on," she said as she got out of the car._

_"Bless you," he replied, finally making her laugh. Luke followed her to the door and into the apartment. "I'm not imposing or anything, am I?" he asked suddenly as if the possibility just occurred to him._

_"I wouldn't have invited you if you were." She tried to hide a yawn and turned toward the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?"_

_Luke put out his hands to stop her. Both stilled when they landed on her waist and stomach. Hastily, he stuck his hands in his pockets. "You don't have to get me anything. You're tired. You should go get ready for bed."_

_Nodding jerkily, Grace changed directions and started for the bathroom. "I'll just get some sheets for your sister's bed and . . ."_

_This time he grabbed her shoulders. Grace closed her eyes as his heat seeped through the back of her chiffon dress. "I can do that, too," he said. "Don't worry about me."_

He'd sent her to her room, ignoring her arguments that she had to make sure he was settled in first. A part of her was grateful that he'd let her off of the hostessing hook. However, another part of her wanted to tell him to stop trying to take care of her every time he set eyes on her.

Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Grace climbed off the bed and made herself go to the living room where she knew Luke would be. Sure enough, he stood in front of her stereo, casually thumbing through her CD collection, a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand. "See anything you like?" she asked.

He turned toward her, looked down then returned his gaze to her collection, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. Grace knew instantly that he'd taken one look at her camisole and lounge pants and wisely chosen not to voice whatever thought had come to mind. Instead, he said, "You should be in bed."

Fighting against a most unwelcome rush of heat, she folded her arms over her stomach and lifted her chin. "You should stop trying to tell me what to do."

If anything, his smirk grew full-blown. "There's a beer on the coffee table for you," he said as he pulled a CD case off the shelf and perused the back. "Who are these people?"

"Cult legends," she answered as she went to his side, beer in hand.

"So it says here, but who are they?" Grace gently took the case from Luke and put it back. "I don't recognize any of these groups."

"Most are local bands, some underground, a few mainstream alternative artists." With an amused smile, she shrugged. "I've listened to a lot of college radio. You want to hear something?"

"No, thanks. Are you still tired?"

Grace nodded and tried to suppress the smile that kept threatening to bloom on her lips. For some reason, Luke really amused her tonight. "A little. But, I figure since you insisted on getting yourself situated, the least I could do is talk to you for a little while."

"What are we going to talk about?" he asked, following her to the couch.

"Well, it was a lovely wedding."

Luke laughed. "Yes, it was. Though I have to say seeing Joan flirt with Adam so mercilessly during the garter throw was a bit much for me."

"They needed a room," Grace agreed. "And who knew your sister was such a Tony Bennett fan?"

"I know. I think it was a tribute to Dad or something like that."

"It was nice."

"You looked beautiful tonight."

"Thanks."

"What, no disparaging remarks? No threats of physical violence?"

"No." Grace shrugged and drew her knees to her chin. "I hear you're almost done at MIT."

"Yeah," Luke said, blinking at the unexpected change of topic. "I defend my thesis at the end of the month."

"What are you going to do next?"

"I've been interviewing for teaching positions."

"I always thought you'd go into research."

"I plan to eventually, but I think I'd like a break first."

"You want a break from science?"

Luke shrugged. "Physics has been my life for as long as I can remember. But there's more to life than science. It's past time I discovered it."

"And you're going to do that by teaching?"

"I'm going to do that by intentionally not locking myself in an ivory tower or a years-long research project."

They sat in silence after that, sipping their beers and trying to decide what to say next. Grace kept trying in vain not to look at him. She'd been right when she'd thought that he'd never be ruggedly handsome. But, with his head resting on the back of the sofa and his ankles crossed under the coffee table, there was something about Luke's long, lithe form that was undeniably attractive. It didn't help that he'd shed his suit jacket, tie, socks, and shoes and his undershirt peeked out from under his half-unbuttoned dress shirt. From his broadened shoulders to his more solid figure, he seemed to radiate a quiet strength.

Suddenly, he turned toward her, his eyes locking with hers. She wanted to look away but found she couldn't. She watched his gaze travel over her curled body, stopping at her feet. He grinned. "Nice socks."

Glancing at them, Grace grimaced. "They were a gift."

"Who'd give you pink, "princess" socks?" Luke asked, clearly amused. "More importantly, why would you keep them?"

"My six-year-old niece gave them to me."

"I didn't know you had siblings."

Grace arched an eyebrow at him. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Girardi."

A myriad of thoughts and emotions flickered through his eyes. "Not for lack of trying."

She licked her lips, dazed by the intensity of his gaze. How did he always manage to fluster her so? He raised his hand and brushed her hair back off her face. His fingers drifted lazily down her cheek, sending tremors of desire through her. Drawing a shaky breath, she said, "How's Caroline?"

"I don't know," he answered softly, tracing the length of her jaw.

For the life of her, she couldn't move away from his touch. "How was she when you left her?" she persisted, willing the thought of his girlfriend to break whatever hold he had on her.

"I didn't leave her. She left me."

A foreboding curiosity mingled with her rising desire. "She left you?"

Luke sighed and dropped his hand. Looking away, he sipped his beer and stared blankly at the table. "On Valentine's Day. She broke up with me."

"I'm sorry." He acknowledged her sympathy with a vague nod. "Why?"

"We want different things, have different needs." He smiled dryly. "She has one more year at MIT. Her family's there. She wants to settle there. She wants me to teach at MIT or Harvard or get a research grant and set up base there. I just want to get as far away from Cambridge as I can."

"Why?" she asked, turning to him. She couldn't explain the concern coursing through her. Grace only knew that she didn't like seeing Luke like this. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. It's just . . . after all of this time I've spent preparing for my life to begin, I feel like I need to step back and look at my options. I know it doesn't make sense but it's like I'm at the starting line ready to take off. There are all of these paths in front of me and, with my first step, I'll be deciding how my life will be.

"There's the path directly in front of me, the one I've been preparing for since forever. You know, important research. Unlocking the mysteries of the universe. Great potential prestige and fame. A name that will go down in history with all the science greats.

"Then there's teaching. Introducing new, young minds to the beauties of physics. Having a normal life, none of the pressures and obligations of greatness. Just a family, a home, holidays and vacations, and the normal headaches and pleasures of ordinary life.

"And then there are all of the variations in between. I don't know which one to take. The only thing I do know is that I don't want to be in Cambridge anymore. I've done that. Yes, Cambridge has been good to me, but it's time to move on."

Grace watched him sip his beer. She kind of understood what he meant. Recently she'd found herself looking at her life and realized that she wasn't satisfied. She'd fallen into her career and let it make up the majority of her world. There were very few people in her orbit, few exterior interests. Somehow, she'd settled into living vicariously through Joan—a sad, pathetic thought. When had the audacious Grace Polk she used to be become so complacent? "I think you're putting to much pressure on yourself."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're going to make mistakes, make choices that don't entirely fit."

"Did you?"

Nodding absently, Grace said, "I think I did."

Luke lifted his bottle. "Here's to me choosing a path and to you correcting your mistakes."

"I'll drink to that," she said, clinking her bottle with his. As if by mutual agreement, they drained their bottles and set them on the table with a distinct thunk. Grace giggled a little then gasped as Luke's arm snaked around her waist.

"Come here," he whispered as he drew her closer.

She went, surprised by her willingness and settled into his arms, her head resting easily on his shoulder. Like the last time she'd found herself in this position, Grace wondered at the comfort and naturalness she felt in Luke's arms. Deciding not to care, she relaxed into him, letting the sound of his heartbeat hypnotize her. She was on the verge of sleep when she felt laughter rumble in his chest. "What?"

"I was just thinking about your socks." He chuckled. "You'd be one bad ass, take-no-prisoners kind of princess."

"No Disney franchise for me."

Luke threw his head back and laughed. "Certainly not," he said, staring down at her.

His laughter faded as his eyes roamed over her face, finally settling on her mouth. They darkened with longing.

Grace felt an answering desire rise in her stomach. Her hand crept up his chest and curved around his neck. She tugged him to her. He didn't resist. The kiss was light, gentle; two people tentatively exploring the depth of each other's need. Then Luke's tongue swept over her lips and she opened for him, granting him access. His arms tightened around her, drawing her into his lap.

Plunging her hands in the short, crisp hair at his nape, Grace kissed him hungrily. She reveled in the pleasure of finally giving in to the urges he inspired in her. His hands roved over her back, pulling her closer. He arched beneath her, making her moan at the feel of his barely leashed strength straining toward her. She pressed against him and sighed into his mouth.

Luke pulled back when she began to unbutton his shirt. "Grace," he gasped.

She ignored him and pushed his shirt opened before tugged his undershirt out of his pants.

"Grace." She glanced up at his serious tone. "Are we really doing this?"

She stared at him for a long moment. This was the perfect time to stop this madness. Climb off of him, go to bed, and pretend this never happened come morning. Only problem with that plan was that she was tired of pretending. She was certainly tired of denying herself. She wanted this, one night to remember after he was gone. With a sly, sexy smile, Grace slid her hands under his shirt and flexed her fingers in his skin. He sucked in his breath and swallowed. "We are definitely doing this," she said and reclaimed his mouth.


	3. Christmas Day, 2014

A/N: This one came easy. I'm pleased. Hope you like it. Alexandri.

No chapter theme for now because I can't think of one.

* * *

Leila was in seventh heaven. Having already opened all of her presents, she'd been granted the privilege of passing out the remaining gifts to the adults. Luke watched his tiny niece gleefully hand his mother a brightly wrapped package from Joan. He couldn't help being impressed with the pretty child. Though he was certain she couldn't yet read, she seemed to recognize the various names after they'd been read to her once or twice. Despite the enormous grin on her face, she appeared to take her gift-giving duty quite seriously, only accepting help when the packages were simply too big or heavy for her. Luke thought he'd like very much to get to know her better.

Settling back against the cushions, he surveyed his family. Amidst the paper-strewn living room, couples cuddled all around him. His parents sat close together, Will's arm wrapped securely around Helen's waist. Joan was actually in Adam's lap while Rebecca was curled in a chair next to Kevin, her head on his shoulder. He smiled when he noticed his sister-in-law's gaze was torn between baby Trevor resting obliviously in Kevin's arms and little Leila delivering gifts with the fabled dedication of a postal worker. He shared the loveseat with Caroline, her hand lightly held in his. Only Grace sat alone, slightly removed from everyone else. A vague smile lit her face as she too watched Leila, who was currently under the Christmas tree.

"I think that's all the presents, sweetheart," Rebecca said as Leila disappeared to her hips.

"There's one more, Mommy," came the little girl's response. Seconds later, she emerged with a silver-wrapped rectangle. "See?"

"Who's it for?" Helen asked.

Leila glanced at the tag. "Uncle Luke?" She showed the gift to her dad for confirmation. When he nodded, she picked her way toward the mess and handed the present to him with as much flourish as a three-year-old could muster. "Merry Christmas, Uncle Luke."

"Merry Christmas, Leila," he answered and kissed her forehead. He perused the tag to see who it was from but only saw his name. With great care, he unwrapped it to find a box in his hands with an envelope taped to it. He opened the envelope and pulled out the card. There was a window on the cover showing a snowy night. A single candle sat on the sill. He opened the card and silently read.

"It's rare to find someone you can lean on who'll give you the support you need without asking the questions you aren't ready to answer. You did that for me once and I never properly thanked you. Okay, I never thanked you at all. But I've always remembered the time you took and the care you gave me. I know it's several years late, but I wanted to give you a token of my appreciation. Happy Holidays, Girardi. Grace.

"P.S., let's keep this between us. No one else really needs to know."

Smiling, Luke put the card back in its envelope and opened the box. Inside lay the 40th anniversary DVD of _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_. He burst out laughing, carefully not looking at Grace.

"What is it?" Kevin asked.

Taking the DVD out of the box, he showed it to the family.

"I didn't think you liked that movie," Joan said, looking at Luke with narrowed eyes.

He should have known Joan would suspect something even though he still had yet to look in Grace's direction. Luke merely shrugged. "I acquired a new appreciation for it at school." Placing the movie and the envelope in the box, Luke tried to squash his smile but it simply wouldn't go away. Surreptitiously, he glanced at Grace. She looked perfectly innocent. His smile grew even bigger. Leave it to the most complicated girl he'd ever known to give him the best present he'd ever gotten.


	4. Aftermath

A/N: You weren't expecting chapter four so soon, were you? Well, here it is. I'm trying to keep the raciness down since this is a PG-13 fic. But who knows. I may decide to let loose later. Anyway, thanks to those who reviewed. KateM, I think there are so few reviews because of a karma-like thing. I'm sort of behind on my reviewing of all stories that aren't yours. But thanks for the "talented" comment. I appreciate it. By the way, Joan and Adam's wedding day, and thus the beginning of this fic's present, is April 3, 2015. Bear with me. Alexandri.

Notes: I'm trying something a little different with my formatting. Chapters with dates are flashbacks and chapters with titles are the actual present of the story. I probably should have explained that earlier.

Chapter Theme Song: _Fever_ by any of the many artists who've done it. But the definitive version seems to be Peggy Lee's, so let's go with that one.

* * *

An arm lay heavily on Grace's stomach. She shifted experimentally beneath it. It tightened around her and a hand caressed her side. Grace cuddled closer to the warm body next to her and sighed. It felt good, right somehow. Gentle fingers skimmed her bare arm and she shivered with pleasure. She pressed a kiss to the body's neck and was squeezed in response. A pleased smile tugged at her lips. What a lovely way to wake up. It wasn't until she realized that she wasn't dating anyone that Grace's eyes flew open. 

Slowly, so as not to disturb the person next to her, Grace lifted her head and stared down at the man next to her. Luke lay beside her fast asleep. For a moment, Grace couldn't remember how she came to be in bed with him. Then the events of the night before flooded back: the beer, the conversation, the kiss.

Chagrined at her predicament, Grace looked away to discover that she was naked and so was he. _Oh, God_, she moaned inwardly. She'd slept with him. _What the hell were you thinking, Polk? A kiss is one thing. That can be explained away. A moment of temporary insanity. But not sex. With Luke. Sex with Luke was not so easy to explain away. _Grace glanced at him, his open, innocent face, and remembered the way he'd handled her. He'd been assertive, demonstrative, surprisingly creative and, Good Lord, the stamina. Grace blushed and squeezed her eyes shut. _Four times?! _She was now certain she'd lost her mind last night.

She sagged into the mattress. It wasn't like she'd been plastered last night. She'd only had a couple of glasses of wine at the reception—neither of which she finished—and the beer when she'd gotten home. Not enough to give her a hangover or make her forget the previous night but just enough, apparently, to lower her inhibitions. As various scenes of the night she'd spent in Luke's arms flashed through her mind, she realized just how much her inhibitions had been lowered. What was wrong with her? Luke had been back in her life for one day and she'd somehow been reduced to an impetuous, wanton woman. So what if Luke was the one guy she'd never been able to forget? That didn't mean she had to become emotionally unbalanced.

_You're not unbalanced_, a voice said as she tried to think of a way out of bed without waking him. _You're just not over him._

Therein lay the problem. She'd never gotten over Luke. That was why it took every ounce of her willpower not to throw herself into his arms. That was why all of her past relationships had never even gotten off the ground. None of the guys she'd dated had measured up to him. They weren't sweet enough or smart enough or gentle enough or funny enough. They weren't imaginative enough. They weren't Luke.

_Geez, Polk, what are you spouting? You're not _over_ Luke because you were never into him to begin with. You never even dated him._

_Whose fault is that?_ said a little, amused voice in the back of her mind. The same voice that thought she wasn't over Luke. _He wanted to date you and, if you're honest, you wanted to date him, too._

_So what?_ Grace demanded of the voice before realizing how crazy it was to lie there arguing with herself. Shaking her head to dislodge her chaotic thoughts, Grace steeled her resolve and shook Luke. She suspected that he wouldn't let her go if she tried to slide out unnoticed.

His eyes popped open and, as a yawn caught him, turned his face into the pillow. Then he looked at her again. For a long time, they simply lay there blinking at each other. He seemed oddly unsurprised to find himself in bed with her. Finally, he smiled—a smile of such blinding purity, Grace's breath caught in her throat. "Grace."

"Yeah?"

His entire expression changed. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened. And a look of such utter shock claimed his features that Grace was on the verge of being offended. He sat up so suddenly, she was forced to clutch the sheets to her chest. Covering himself, however, was not on Luke's mind. Grace found herself treated to an unrestricted view of his torso. _How did a science geek get a body like that?_ she wondered as her eyes wandered helplessly over the long, sleek muscles in his arms, back and chest. Part of her wanted to gouge her eyes out while another, slightly stronger part of her wanted to traced his abs with her tongue. Surely she was going to Hell for that thought.

"What happened?" he asked, disbelief coloring his sleep-deepened (and thus, incredibly sexy) voice.

"Take a wild guess, genius." For some reason, his incredulity made her angry. It was one thing for her to feel that way. She could even be repulsed, but not him. How dare he?

"I know what happened," he stammered. "I just don't . . . How did we . . ." He stopped talking and thrust his hands into his hair like he was mulling over a problem.

Ignoring the way his back muscles rippled, Grace focused on her mounting anger. "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out," she repeated, letting her anger flow through her.

Luke looked at her like she was some curious, new entity. Something to be studied to be understood. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Out!" She pointed insistently at her bedroom door. "Now."

"You brought me here."

"Then call a cab. Just leave."

He shook his head. "We should talk about this, Grace."

She merely glared at him. "Do you really think we're going to have a meaningful conversation right now?"

Luke sighed and got out of her bed. Grace pulled the sheets over her head. This was more for her pride than his modesty. She had a sneaking suspicion that she might do something highly undignified and distinctly lustful if she watched him dressed. She felt the bed move as he sat to put on his shoes.

"Please talk to me," he said quietly.

"No."

"Grace."

"No."

"Fine." He picked up her phone and called a cab. "It should be here in five minutes."

"Good."

"We have to talk about this sometime."

"We really don't."

"Grace, come on."

She pulled the sheets off her face and leveled Luke with a skewering glare. "We are never ever going to talk about this. It never happened. Last night was an alcohol-induced figment of our collective imagination. It meant nothing."

Luke's eyes became shuttered as if he had barred her access to some hidden part of him. He stared down at her with cold eyes. It was all she could do not to shiver under that gaze. "Goodbye, Grace."

Nodding, she watched him walk out of her room, unnerved by the change in his demeanor. She heaved a deep sigh when she heard the front door close. Now that he was gone, she could breathe easier. Grace swung her legs over the side of her bed and winced. She hadn't expected to feel sore. Blushing, she stood and slipped on her robe. At least now she knew what it was like to have spectacular, mind-blowing sex.

* * *

_It meant nothing_. 

Grace's words echoed through Luke's mind the entire ride home.

_It meant nothing_.

How could it possibly mean nothing to her? Last night had been phenomenal. Watching her above him, her hands clasped in his, a sex-drenched smile on her lips. His body tingled with the memory. She'd been everything he'd always imagined she'd be: fierce, playful, sexy as hell. A diminutive, unrestrained vixen fully aware of the power she held over him and not the least bit afraid to use it. He'd never been so out of control in his life as he'd been last night. He'd loved every minute of it.

The only thing better than making love to her was waking up to her. When he'd opened his eyes to find her staring back at him, he'd been sure he was dreaming. It hadn't really registered that he was holding her, could feel her warm, soft skin against his. Seeing her like that—naked, hair messy, a hickey forming at the base of her neck—he'd thought it was a more vivid version of the recurring dream that had plagued him for the last five years. Realizing that Grace Polk had slept with him, and so unabashedly, had thrown him for a loop.

Then the sexy, relaxed woman from last night disappeared and the Grace he was used to—the one who wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot armored pole—was back and telling him to leave. Telling him that last night meant nothing.

As the cab pulled up in front of his parents' house, Luke decided he'd be damned if he came that close to her only to be pushed away. There was something between him and Grace and, if it was the last thing he did, he was going to bring it to light.


	5. The Enigmatic Grace

A/N: Unlike _Starting Over_ and _We've Only Just Begun_, I intend to make this story more inclusive of the other characters. In other news, for those of you reading _The Way Back to You_, it's going on temporary hiatus while I flesh out this story a little more and give it a clearer direction than it has so far. Thanks so much for all of your reviews. I really appreciate them. (KateM, your review was hilarious. And we'll just assume Grace meant the hell thing figuratively.) Alexandri.

No song this chapter either. Ah, well. No movie has music in every scene.

Disclaimer: I've never watched _General Hospital_ or _Days of Our Lives. _I know nothing about the characters or the situations they've found themselves in. A.

* * *

"Something's going on with Grace," Joan stated as she pushed their cart down the aisle.

"Uh huh," Adam said. "Did you want the regular crushed tomatoes or the ones without salt?"

"Regular. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Jane, I am." Adam put three cans of tomatoes in the buggy. "You think something's up with Grace. Regular green beans or French-cut?"

"French. Don't you think something's up with Grace?" She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she examined the cans of peas.

He nodded and loaded his arms with cans. "She's distracted about something."

"Well, aren't you concerned?" Joan decided on the peas and began to stock up.

Dumping his armload in the buggy, he leaned over and kissed his wife's cheek. "Of course, I am, but we have a kitchen to stock. I'm multitasking."

"Cute. But seriously, what are we going to do about Grace?"

"Wait for her to say she wants our help." He quickly scanned the list then handed it to her. "I'm going to the baking aisle. Will you get the rest of the canned goods?"

Since Adam was obviously on a shopping mission, she sighed and said, "Sure."

"Be right back." Then he disappeared.

Joan tried to focus on the mundane task of choosing canned vegetables, but her mind kept going back to Grace and her weird behavior. Joan and Adam had returned from their honeymoon yesterday afternoon, all arm-in-arm and private smiles. Grace was waiting for them at the gate, her usual smirk firmly in place. "I see your little seaside sabbatical went well."

"It went perfectly," Adam said as Joan threw her arms around their friend and hugged her hard.

"Uh huh." Grace gingerly peeled Joan's arms off of her. "Why do you insist on hugging me when you're excited, Girardi?"

"It's Rove now," Joan said haughtily. "I expect you to remember that."

"Whatever. Let's go."

"Call me Rove. You know you want to," Joan teased.

"Shut it, Joan," Grace said over her shoulder as she led them to baggage claim.

Joan and Adam both stopped mid-step. "She called me Joan."

"I know." Adam sounded as stunned as Joan did.

"She called me . . . what does this mean?"

"It means I'm leaving you two here if you don't move your asses."

The couple stopped marveling and hurried after her. Grace barely spoke as they collected Joan and Adam's bags and headed to her Jeep, preferring to listen to their stories about their honeymoon. It wasn't until they crossed over Arcadia's city limits that Joan asked, "So what have we missed?"

Instead of filling them in with her usual observant but snarky commentary, Grace shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing weird or funny happened?" Adam asked. "Nothing at all?"

"This isn't _General __Hospital_ or _Days of Our Lives_, you know. It's not like you left just as Marco kidnapped Josephine while her long lost love Boris finally returned home after being a POW of a bogus war for three years. Or Ellen caught her daughter Jeanette, who was nine-years-old two weeks ago but is now a sixteen-year-old runaway stripper in Vegas, unknowingly boffing with her stepfather. It's Arcadia, Maryland, for crying out loud. Nothing that bizarre happens here."

For a long moment, Adam and Joan simply sat in stunned silence. Finally, Adam whispered to Joan, "Boris?"

"So you spent last week watching soap operas?" Joan asked, trying desperately not to laugh at Adam's bewildered tone.

"No," Grace answered, her patience obviously strained. "My point is that nothing happened while you were gone because very little happens in Arcadia, at least, nothing noteworthy. So stop with the 'gasp, nothing happened while we were gone' thing."

They'd stopped but Joan knew that something had happened and that that something had Grace silently freaking out. Grace so rarely freaked out that Joan couldn't help wanting to do whatever she could to help her.

"Jane," Adam sighed when he found her in the same position he'd left her in. "We need to talk."

"But we're shopping."

"No, I'm shopping. You're trying to puzzle out whatever's bothering Grace." He took hold of the shopping cart and started to push. "Come on."

Joan reluctantly followed him to the deserted greeting card aisle. She felt oddly like she used to when she was little and her father would pull her aside and reprimand her for acting up. She didn't like the feeling at all. "What do we need talk about?" she asked, her arms folded across her chest and her face set in a stubbornly blank expression.

Adam smiled, unfolded her arms and pulled her close. "I need you to focus."

"It's just grocery shopping."

"What kind of toothpaste do I use?"

"What?" Joan asked, taken aback.

"What kinds of bread and ice cream do I like best?" he continued without answering. "Do I prefer Swiss cheese or American? Brown mustard or plain yellow? Do I have any food allergies?"

"I . . . I don't know," she stammered.

"I don't know this stuff about you either. Not all of it anyway."

"This is like the gift registry thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Joan sighed. "It's just that it's always been me who's needed Grace. She's never really seemed to need me before but something tells me that she does now. I want to be there for her."

"She knows you're here if she needs you. Same with me. But we're talking about Grace. She doesn't do the whole emotional sharing thing that well and we can't force it."

"I know."

Adam gave her a reassuring kiss. "When she's ready, she'll come to us. In the meantime, we'll keep an eye on her and stock our kitchen." He smiled when Joan began to laugh.

"Okay. We'll stock our kitchen. Maybe we can have her over for dinner next week."

"Sounds good to me," he said as he turned back to the cart. "But first we need spices."

* * *

In the last week, Luke had called Grace forty-one times. At least that's how many times he'd dialed all the numbers and actually let the phone ring. He suspected she was screening her calls since he'd also left forty-one messages, none of which she'd returned.

Now he sat in his Cambridge apartment, phone receiver in hand, debating whether he should make a forty-second call. On the one hand, calling would probably lead to nothing more than another unreturned message. On the other hand, not calling because of the apparent futility felt too much like giving up. Luke was tired of giving up on having a relationship with Grace. Even if they never became anything more than friends, he wanted to know that he had at least tried. He didn't want to look back at his life one day and regret not taking the chance his gut was telling him to take.

Decision made, he called Grace for the forty-second time, listening to the line ring and fully expecting to leave yet another message.

"What?"

Luke started at the sound of her terse voice. "Grace?"

"What do you want, Girardi?"

"I want to talk to you."

"I told you there's nothing to talk about. Stop calling me."

"It doesn't work that way. We slept together. We have to talk about it."

"No, we don't," she ground out. "Look, I'm not in the mood for this."

"When are you going to be in the mood?" he asked, exasperated.

"The day after you stop calling me."

Luke clenched his teeth, trying to hold on to his temper. Why did she have to be so damn difficult? "You're my sister's best friend and you're practically family. You can't keep avoiding me."

"Funny, it's been pretty easy to do for the last five years."

"It won't be so easy anymore since I'm moving back to Maryland." His mouth dropped. Where had that come from?

Silence followed his announcement. Then Grace cleared her throat. "What are you talking about?"

"Johns Hopkins has offered me a teaching position starting in the fall and I'm taking it." He'd been comparing his prospects for weeks now and hadn't been able to decide. Now, he'd let Grace's antagonism goad him into a spontaneous decision that felt strangely right. "I'm also spending the summer in D.C. as a research assistant for a professor of mine. Plus, I should spend more time with my family after all this time, don't you think?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.

"Why are you so uncomfortable with this?" he asked back.

"Girardi . . ."

"You can tell me that our night meant nothing all you want, but I don't believe you, Grace," he said quietly. "There's something between us. I feel it and I think you do, too."

"Let it go, geek."

"I've done that for as long as I've known you. I won't do it anymore, Grace. You don't have to be scared of me or us, for that matter."

"I'm not afraid of you and there is no 'us.'"

"We'll see, won't we?" Grace sighed and Luke felt oddly centered, like things we're just as they should be.

"I have to go," Grace said, her voice firm. But Luke heard her hesitation anyway.

"Okay. I'll be seeing you soon, Grace."


	6. July 30, 1998

A/N: I'm figuring that Adam and Grace were born in 1987, so they should be 10 or 11 in 1998.

Chapter Theme: _No Rain_ by Blind Melon. I don't know why, but it kept floating through my head.

nyklm: _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ would have been perfect for the Christmas Day chapter. I should be ashamed of myself for not thinking of it since it's my favorite Christmas song. Oh, well. I'll just have to go back and add it. Thanks for the suggestion.

Enjoy the chapter. Alexandri

* * *

"What's up, Buttercup?" Steve Ramsey asked as he, Grace, and Adam walked through one of their favorite sewers. "Why so quiet?"

"I told you not to call me Buttercup, Ramsey."

"I told you not to call me Ramsey," he retorted. "I'll stop when you do."

Grace rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her feet. One foot directly in front of the other—that was the goal. Walking in a perfectly straight line, like a high wire, required balance, poise, precision, confidence, focus. Grace didn't have these things, not anymore. So she practiced as often as possible, one foot directly in front of the other, hoping to reclaim the ground she'd lost. She looked up, an experiment, to see how far they were from the end of the sewer. She tripped and Adam caught her before she hit the ground. "Thanks," she mumbled when she regained her footing.

"No problem," he said casually.

They walked in silence—Adam in the middle, an intentional buffer between the pair. Grace knew that Adam was trying to keep the peace between his two oldest friends. He thought she didn't like Ramsey. This wasn't true; she actually thought he was kind of funny, especially if you considered his home life. His nickname used to amuse her sort of, back when it fit her. Now it was just a remainder of one more thing that she'd lost. No, the real reason for her seeming dislike had nothing to do with Ramsey's personality. It had to do with his bulk. Both of the boys were taller than Grace but, unlike Adam, Ramsey was massive. His five foot, one hundred thirty-three pound body dwarfed Grace's own four foot five inch, eighty-pound frame. He simply made her uncomfortable. She knew that if she ever pissed him off bad enough, all he'd have to do is push her down and sit on her. She wouldn't stand a chance.

"You know," Adam said suddenly, "Buttercup isn't really appropriate anymore." Lifting a lock of Grace's newly shorn, recently dyed hair, he studied it for a moment before asking, "What did your mom say when she saw it?"

The instant the words were out of his mouth, a tense hush descended on the trio. Grace didn't respond, choosing to glare at him and swat his hand away instead.

"I'm sorry, Grace," he whispered, clearly mortified by his slip. Although they'd never discussed it, they all knew not to mention Grace's mother. Or Adam's, for that matter. Or Ramsey's home situation in general. They may all be best friends, but some things were just too painful to discuss with anyone. "Really," he said helplessly as he watched her stand there trembling, "I didn't mean to."

"Whatever, Rove." She turned around and stomped back the way they'd come.

"Grace," he called after her. "Come on, Grace, we're supposed to stay together."

She just kept going. When she heard them follow, she began to run. They may be bigger, but she was lighter and faster. She quickly made it to the surface and ran across the field until the tears she was trying to outrun got the best of her. Dropping to the ground, Grace pulled her knees to her chest and waited for the boys to catch up while tears streamed down her face.

She buried her face in her knees when Adam and Ramsey found her a few minutes later.

"What did you run off for, Buttercup?" Ramsey asked as he plopped down across from her. She didn't bother answering. His voice said he already knew.

Adam sank down near her, not close enough to invade her personal space, but close enough to lend comfort if she wanted it. He didn't say anything.

Somehow, his silence made everything worse. She could feel his sympathy and Ramsey's concern crashing over her like waves and, before she could stop it, she began to sob.

Everything was so wrong. Her hair was awful. She'd cut it really short—it stopped just under her ears—and dyed it a muddy brown. It didn't suit her anymore than her new wardrobe did. She'd dyed her clothes, too—browns, grays, blacks—dark, drab, lifeless colors that hardly counted as colors at all. She missed her greens and blues and oranges, her purples and her reds. Her dad missed them, too. He'd taken one look at her clothes and got that "Oh, Gracie, why?" look that he seemed to wear so often now. He'd winced when he'd seen her new hairdo, but he hadn't said anything. He'd just looked sad. She was sad, too, and she covered her bare, chilled neck despite the sun burning down on it.

"She didn't say anything," she whispered finally. "I don't think she even noticed."

Suddenly, Adam was next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Ramsey sat at her feet, not touching but showing his understanding with his nearness. She rested her head on Adam's shoulder and smiled at Ramsey.

He smiled back. "I like the cut," he said. "But the color is rank. Maybe you should go red next time."

"Steve," Adam said sharply.

Grace giggled and sat up. Taking a deep breath, she sighed, wiped her eyes, and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I don't think red will look any better than this."

"Pink might get her attention," Adam offered.

"Maybe," she shrugged. "But I shouldn't have to work for it."

Ramsey nodded and stared at his hands.

The three sat for a long time quietly shredding blades of grass, each lost in their own thoughts. Grace felt lucky to have them for friends. She had so few left nowadays.

Eventually, the sun got low in the sky. "We should head back," Adam said, getting up. Grace and Ramsey followed suit and the three made their way to their abandoned bikes and started the ride home.

They came to Ramsey's house first. "Buck up, Buttercup." He cast a derisive glance at his home. "It could be worse."

She nodded. He had a point. "See ya, Ramsey," she called as he went up the driveway.

They arrived at Adam's house next. "You want me to see you home? Make sure you get there okay?"

"I'm good," she said with a shake of her head. "Say hi to your parents for me."

Adam stared at her for a moment as if he were trying to decide if he should see her home anyway. Grace stared back, letting him know that it really wasn't necessary. She'd learned a long time ago that silent communication worked best with Adam. Finally, he nodded and turned toward his house.

Grace waited until he was inside before slowly pedaling home. Leaving her bike against the side of the house, she went in. Making as little noise as possible, she carefully avoided the rooms her parents were most likely to be in and slipped into her room. She lay on her bed and curled up with the huge stuffed tiger her brother had won for her five years ago. As her eyes drifted closed, she wished she could go back to that time. Life hadn't hurt as much then. Things were simpler, better. She'd believed her father was omnipotent and that her mother loved her. She'd give just about anything to go back to those days.


	7. House Parties, Kiddies, and Promises

A/N: It gets a little racy there at the end. Don't know what came over me.

Chapter Theme Song: _That's What Friends Are For _by Dionne Warwick and Friends for lack of a better choice. Yes, I know that there is no way any of our young characters would ever even admit to knowing this song, but it does capture Joan's motivation in her "obsession" and concern for Grace. So I guess we'll have to just suck it up and live with the song.

* * *

"Having fun?" Adam asked, wrapping his arms around Joan's waist. 

She slid her arms around his neck, a happy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Mm-hmm."

"Then why are you hiding from our guests?"

"I'm not hiding; I'm just taking a breather," she corrected as she snuggled into his embrace. "And, technically, they're not our guests. Mom's throwing this little get-together. We're guests ourselves."

With a snort of laughter, Adam grinned and held her closer. "That's not going to work."

"I know," she sighed. "I just didn't expect so many people." Joan peeked over his shoulder at their crowded living room. Her mom had had the brilliant idea to throw them a housewarming party "so they could get to know their neighbors." Quite a few had shown up, more than she'd expected, as well as her, Adam's, and Grace's families. Though she appreciated the party, she wanted everyone to leave so she and Adam could have their apartment back. Three hours was more than enough time to get acquainted with their neighbors.

"Tired?" he asked.

"A little."

"It'll be over soon. And when it is, I promise I'll make it all better."

Interest piqued, Joan asked, "How do you intend to that?"

"Oh, the usual. A long, hot bubble bath, for starters, maybe a massage. I'll make dinner."

"We'll probably have enough food left over to last us for a few days."

"That's finger food," Adam corrected. "I'm talking about rich, calorie-laden comfort food."

"Oh. My mistake."

"And, if you're really good," he said, nuzzling her neck, "I'll let you pick a movie tonight without a single complaint."

"Ooh," Joan said, followed by a sigh when he kissed her collarbone.

Adam trailed his mouth up the length of her neck, letting his breath caress her skin. "That doesn't even include what I intend to do to you later tonight," he whispered huskily. "So what do you think? Will that make the next hour or so better?"

She whimpered and nodded, overwhelmed by the erotic images he'd prompted. Turning his mouth toward hers, she whispered, "I promise I'll be good," before kissing him. His hands on her back urged her closer while his tongue slipped between her parted lips. Clinging to him, Joan slid her tongue in his mouth. Just as his hands cupped her bottom and hauled her firmly against him, a soft something hit the side of Joan's head. Pulling back, she scanned the room with passion-glazed eyes to find Grace watching them with an amused yet disgusted expression on her face.

"Cool it, you two," she said before gesturing to the children surrounding her. "There are minors present."

Blushing fiercely, Joan covered her face with her hands. "I forgot we had company," she admitted.

Chuckling, Adam took her hands and kissed them. "Later," he whispered, the promise heavy in his voice. "But for now," he said, walking backwards and leading her out of the corner, "we mingle."

He winked at her and turned around, presenting her with an unobstructed view of his back. Her eyes roamed over his broad, muscular shoulders beneath the navy blue t-shirt and down his back. She bit back a smile as she appreciated the new, slimmer fit of his jeans.

"I know what you're doing, Jane."

Giggling happily, Joan slipped her arm around his waist and cuddled against him. Waiting for the next hour to pass was going to be torture.

* * *

"Mr. McAllister!" Adam said, clasping the hand of an older, genial-looking man. "You made it." 

"Of course, I made it. I live just across the way," Mr. McAllister said with a smile. "Tell me, is this the little lady you busted your hump decorating this place for?"

Joan smiled—she couldn't remember the last time she'd been called a "little lady"—and held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Joan."

"The pleasure's mine. I thought you said her name was Jane."

"It's just my nickname for her."

"What wrong with Joan? It's a perfectly good name."

"Why, thank you, Mr. McAllister," Joan said, trying to keep a straight face.

"You're welcome. Call me Tom."

"Would you like to meet my dad, Tom?" Adam asked as he steered the older man in the direction of their parents.

Joan smiled after them before letting her gaze wander over the remaining guests. In the last half hour, the crowd had thinned considerably and the party was winding down. Her mother, Mrs. Polanski, and Sharon were discretely cleaning up. Kevin and Rebecca were chatting up the younger adults while Will, Carl and Rabbi Polanski were keeping the older guests entertained. Finally, she spotted Grace. She sat in front of the living room windows, still surrounded by children. Holding Trevor in her lap, she appeared to be telling a story.

Bemused, Joan strolled toward the group. In the entirety of their acquaintance, she'd never known Grace to be the one kids flocked to nor would she have thought Grace would tolerate such attention. Joan wondered how her friend became the Mrs. Doubtfire of the party.

"Joan," Rebecca said as she came up behind her. "Phone."

Eyes still glued on Grace, she took the receiver. "Hello?"

"How's your party going, sis?"

"Luke!" she exclaimed. She noticed Grace pause in the middle of her sentence and tense. Her hand settled almost involuntarily on her stomach. A slight panic filled her eyes before she took a deep breath, smiled at the children, and continued her story.

Joan observed all of this with narrowed eyes, bewildered by her friend's reaction to her brother's name. Why was Grace so disconcerted by the mention of Luke? What would cause . . . . The kids, Grace's soap opera tirade, her reaction just now—as the pieces fell into place, Joan's jaw dropped open. Surely, she was wrong.

"Joan?" Luke said. "Hello?"

"Hey, dog boy. How are you? What _have _you been up to?"

* * *

"You think what?" Adam exclaimed. He sat on the lip of the tub, his hand forgotten under the water as he ran the bath. 

"I think Grace is pregnant and that Luke's the father." Joan sat on the toilet lid, watching him.

"And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"I can't quite explain it," she said. "I just feel that it's true."

Now that the shock was wearing off, Adam added generous capfuls of bubble bath to the water. "You're going to have to do better than that, Jane."

Joan ticked off her evidence on her fingers as she spoke. "She hung out with the kids all day. When have you ever known her to be Aunty Grace to the kiddies? She completely smoke-screened us about what happened while we were on our honeymoon. Whenever Luke comes up in conversation she either gets really quiet or changes the subject. And when he called this afternoon and she heard his name, her hand flew to her stomach and she looked all panicked. I think they had a thing while we were gone and now she's pregnant."

"That's all circumstantial, Jane," Adam said reasonably.

"You think I don't know that?" At his doubting expression, she glared at him. "I am fully aware of my lack of concrete evidence, Rove."

He smiled at her use of his surname. She only did that when she thought he was being exasperating or deliberately obtuse. Usually he was only being concerned or reasonable. "As long as you know," was all he said.

With a roll of her eyes, she returned his smile then began to pin her hair up. "But what if I'm right? What if Grace is pregnant and Luke is the father? What should we do?"

Adam checked the water as he pondered her question. "I guess we be there for her." He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

"That's it?" she asked, taking off her earrings. "'Be there for her?'"

"What else can we do?" he asked while he removed his shoes and socks. Then he leaned forward and removed her shoes. "If she is pregnant, she obviously doesn't want anyone to know. Plus, it's only been two weeks since our wedding. Whether she's pregnant or not, if she and Luke did have a thing, I doubt she's come to terms with that yet." He shed his jeans and threw them on the pile of clothes growing in the corner.

She slipped the straps of her sundress off her shoulders and he helped her shimmy out of it. "I guess you're right."

Adam shut off the water. Then he gave her a soft, understanding kiss. "You know, I've said it before and I'll say it again, patience is a wonderful thing."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed and pushed him back.

Grinning, he took off his boxers and got in the tub. "You know I'm right." She shrugged and sat on the edge of the tub, lazily trailing her fingers through the water. He watched her for a long moment, amazed as always by her tendency to fall into the most graceful poses. Gazing down at the frothy bubbles, the long, elegant lines of her neck accentuating the thoughtful expression on her Madonna-like face, Adam wondered if he would ever know the full range of her beauty. "Jane?"

She glanced up at him.

"I promised to make it all better."

"You did," she acknowledged with a smile.

"I can't do that if you're there and I'm here," he pointed out.

"Is that so?"

He nodded. "I can only make it better if we're touching."

"Well, if that's the only way," she laughed, "who am I to disagree?" Joan stood and slowly stripped off her bra and panties. Taking the hand he offered her, she stepped into the tub and sank into his waiting arms. He gathered her closer and pressed a kiss to her temple as the steaming water lapped over them. Gradually, she melted into his embrace. When she moaned softly and stretched, he smiled and grazed her ear with his lips. "Better?"

"Much." She kissed the underside of his jaw. "Thanks."

"My pleasure." Adam brought her hand to his mouth and idly sprinkled kisses over her palm. "Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is this thing with Grace so important to you?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I guess I just what her to know that she's still important to us. That we haven't forgotten about her or stopped needing her just because you and I are married now. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does. But I don't think you need to worry about it so much. I'm sure she knows."

"You think?"

Adam nodded. "And now, if you don't mind, I propose we stop talking about Grace."

"Why?"

"Because I'm sitting naked in this tub with my beautiful, equally naked wife talking about another woman." He gave her a lop-sided smile. "That's wrong on many, many levels."

"True," she said, laughing.

"But, more importantly," he said as he dropped a kiss on her shoulder, "I promised to make it _all_ better. So far I've only made some of it better. I've dropped the ball," he whispered into her neck as he slid his hands up her arms. Joan smiled as his fingertips skimmed her collarbone. Then his hands were cupping her breasts, teasing them as she squirmed against him, her nails digging into his forearms as need unfurled in the pit of her stomach. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked, his breath tickling her ear and making her tremble even more.

Unable to speak, she shook her head and hoped he wouldn't stop.

"You're perfect." He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear and she swallowed.

"Exquisite." He nipped her jaw.

His hands began to glide down her stomach. "You're mine," he whispered as his fingers dallied with her navel.

Joan turned heavy-lidded eyes on her husband. She licked her lips. "I'm yours."

"All mine," he sighed against her mouth.

"Yes."

"And I'm yours." He claimed her lips then in a delicate, tantalizing kiss as his hands continued their southward journey. His fingers combed through the curls between her thighs and she sucked her breath in through her teeth. "Open for me, Jane."

She did as he asked then gasped his name as he pressed her thighs further apart. "Hold on to me."

Joan chuckled; she was already clinging helplessly to him. Then he took her mouth again in a deep, thorough kiss much hotter than the water. Just when she thought she'd combust if he didn't make good on his promise, she felt his fingers plunge into her and all thought of anything other than Adam faded into oblivion.

* * *

A/N: Told ya. It's only to be expected. They are newlyweds, after all. Needless to say, they never got to that movie, let alone dinner. But I digress. The reason I haven't been in adult Grace's POV recently is because I'm not sure if Grace is pregnant or not. I keep going back and forth on the issue. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. R&R. Alexandri. 


	8. February 15, 2015

A/N: This chapter was a little experimental for me. I hope it comes across right. Grace may seem out of character, but she's supposed to, so just roll with it. Enjoy. R&R. Alexandri.

Thanks so much for your reviews. They were encouraging and very helpful. I've made my decision about whether or not Grace is pregnant, but this is not the chapter when you find out what that decision is. In fact, you won't find out for a few chapters. Oh, and I do love critiques. The whole reason I'm doing this, aside from enjoying it, is to improve my writing, so criticism is always welcome if it's constructive.

Chapter Theme Song: _Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight_ by James Taylor.

* * *

She was there again. Luke opened his eyes and sighed even as a part of him rejoiced to be with her once more. She lay on her side next to him in bed, her head propped in her hand, staring down at him. She was wearing his red and orange plaid button-down as usual. Golden sunlight streamed in through gauzy white curtains, giving her a heavenly aura. Though he didn't look around, he knew that the room they were in was different; the walls were a rich butter-yellow with a soft cream trim, the furniture was all made of warm pine. It was the kind of room he wanted to have when he was older and married—a settled sanctuary of a room. Raising his hand, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, enjoying the warmth of her skin and the coolness of her hair. "Good morning."

She smiled in return.

"I've missed you," he continued. He was used to her silences. "Where have you been hiding?"

Her eyes flickered to his chest and she laid a hand over his heart. She idly traced random patterns on his skin. Prickles of awareness skittered through him. Closing his eyes for a moment, Luke savored the sensation, letting her heat drive back the cold he now realized claimed most of his body. Then she moved closer, her petite body surrounding him. He wrapped his arms around her and smiled when she tucked her head under his chin.

When he was thoroughly warmed, she raised her head and stared down at him again. He pushed her hair off her face and asked the question that had been lingering at the back of his mind since he'd opened his eyes. "Shouldn't I feel something?"

She gave him a slight, sympathetic smile and waited for him to continue.

"Anger or hurt or despair, some deep, painful anguish?" She didn't answer—again, he wasn't surprised—so he decided to confess the worst of his current sins. "I don't. I don't feel anything like that, nothing at all. I'm a little upset that she chose to do it the way she did, but I'm not hurt or anything. Truth is, I'm a little relieved that she realized it, too. Does that make me bad?"

Again she smiled, this time indulgently as if to say he could never be bad.

Luke covered the hand that rested on his chest with his. "You may not think I'm bad, but I don't know. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Maybe she's the one and I let her slip through my fingers." He raised his eyes to her and frowned cynically. "Maybe I gave up, let go of something real for a fantasy. What sense does that make?"

She squeezed his hand, ever understanding and soft and uncritical, before letting it go and running her fingers through his hair. For a moment, he let her soothe him with her gentle touch then he pushed her hand away.

"Stop it." He stared up at her, the anger, hurt, and despair he didn't feel for Caroline directed at the woman in his arms. "Why do you do this? Why are you here? You don't want me."

And still she said nothing. She merely looked at him like she wanted nothing more than to take his pain, doubt and confusion away for him. She cupped his face in her hands and brought her lips to his. It was a sweet kiss, unhurried and heartfelt. But Luke was aware of the passion simmering underneath. He felt it in his belly, roiling around, slowly scaling it way up his chest into his mouth. Soon he'd clasped her to him, pulling her ever closer, trying to embed her in his skin. She didn't resist; on the contrary, she matched him, drawing him into her even as she pressed against him. When his ardor bested him, he rolled her onto her back. Luke made short work of her buttons and pushed the shirt open. Dragging his mouth from hers, he gawked at the perfection of her body and, with a groan, stroked and sucked and explored her with his hands and lips. She arched beneath him, offering herself to him freely. So freely.

He was kissing a trail from her navel to the springy curls beckoning his touch when he felt her hands plunge into his hair and drag him upward. Staring down into the swirling pools of her eyes, desire blazing in their depths, Luke wrapped her legs around his waist. He was poised above her, ready, eager, almost desperate, and yet he didn't move. She lifted her hips, urging him on, and still he didn't move. Tears formed in her eyes as frustration and confusion warred with her obvious disappointment.

"Why can't I get you out of my head?" he asked quietly. The need to claim her shuddered through him, but his need to understand was greater. "Why do you haunt me, Grace?"

Grace stared up at him, her hands trembling where they touched his face. "Only you know the answer to that," she said in his voice.

Luke's eyes popped open. The clock on his bedside table read 7:56. He shivered in the damp cold of his room and noted the wet, gray Massachusetts morning outside his window. With a sigh, he allowed himself to sink into his mattress and covered his face with his hands. He'd dreamed of her again. Caroline had dumped him not twelve hours ago and he'd come home and dreamed of Grace.

He didn't understand it, this hold she had on him. If he were honest with himself, he knew that he didn't really know Grace well enough to be this devoted to her, this consumed by her. Nothing untoward had occurred between them when he'd gone home for Christmas. There hadn't been any passionate tension or lingering glances or "casual, accidental" touches between them. In fact, there hadn't been any indication that there had ever been the possibility of such behavior. And yet, the dreams persisted. They were intimate dreams, not always sensual, but indicative of a closeness they'd only had once: that week in his apartment. Then she'd left and the dreams took her place.

With another sigh, he put on his glasses and got out of bed to turn on the heat. He'd forgotten to do it when he'd gotten home the night before and he was paying for it now. He went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee while waiting for the furnace to kick in.

It wasn't until he was halfway through his second cup of coffee and the world news section of the Sunday paper that he realized the dream had changed. Grace had spoken, albeit in his voice. There was a time when he would have dismissed this new development as meaningless, but now he wasn't so sure. She said that only he knew why she haunted him. Folding his paper and putting it aside, he settled in to ponder this. He was sure he wouldn't find an answer today but, with little else to do on such a dreary Sunday, he decided there was no time like the present to start figuring it out.


	9. Concern and Pressure

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. It's still not at all what I wanted it to be, but that's how it goes sometimes. Chapter ten will be up soon. Promise.

Chapter Theme Song: None, but the song in the chapter is "I Like It" by DeBarge. I'm an old-school R&B, funk, neo-soul, jazz kind of girl. I greatly prefer old music to new music, so if you have any musical suggestions in any genre that you think will go well with the story (or the direction you'd like to see it go in), feel free to let me know.

That's it for now. R&R. Alexandri

* * *

"Did you want anything else, Grace?" Joan asked. "Some more tea or something?"

Grace raised an eyebrow at her friend and shook her head. "I'm good. Thanks for asking. For the fifth time."

Joan blushed. It always amused Grace that Joan—and Adam, too, for that matter—was still prone to blushing. They were twenty-seven, for goodness' sake. "I'm just trying to be a good hostess," Joan stated in her defense.

"I helped you unpack and organize this place," Grace reminded her. "I'm not a guest."

"Oh, please," Joan exclaimed. "We're still guests and we live here."

"As much as you guys have me over, I live here, too."

"Girls," Adam said with all the stern exasperation of a father weary of his children's bickering.

Grace and Joan shot affronted glares at him. Adam grinned then burst into laughter. Though she rolled her eyes, Grace couldn't help the pleasure she felt at seeing him so completely happy. Not even when they'd been in college had she seen him so whole. Marriage certainly agreed with him.

"Whatever, Rove," Joan said.

"That's my line, Girardi."

"He's mine now, Grace. I can call him whatever I want." Joan gathered their plates and headed for the kitchen. "And it's Rove now. I'm not gonna keep telling you that."

"Well, I can't call you both Rove," she called back.

"What happened to Joan?"

"Yeah, that doesn't work for me." Grace stood and went to the kitchen. "It's too weird. Let me help," she said, setting her cup in the sink and looking for Tupperware to put the leftovers in.

"No, I have it. Go. Sit. Talk to Adam," Joan said as she pushed Grace out of the kitchen. "You want any dessert?"

"No, thanks." Grace sat at the dining table, slightly bewildered by the whole experience. "When did Girardi get so domestic?" she asked Adam.

"Rove," Joan called from the kitchen. "It's Rove."

Adam lowered his eyes and smiled into his glass of wine before answering. "Couldn't tell you."

"Well, she needs to stop it," she grumbled before calling back, "'cause it's very disturbing."

Setting his glass on the table, Adam sat back and studied Grace for a moment before asking, "How are you doing?"

She gave him a questioning look. Ever since Joan and Adam's housewarming party a couple weeks ago, the pair had been especially attentive. Adam usually restricted his concern to asking how she felt. Joan, however, had developed a maddening need to get things for her: a glass of water, a sandwich, a book off of a high shelf—all things Grace was more than capable of doing for herself. As much as she loved the two, something she'd never told either of them and at this point wasn't going to, they were driving her nuts. "Do I look like I'm going through something? Am I sick and don't know it? Have I somehow contracted leprosy or some other highly contagious and disgusting disease?"

"Uh, no."

"Then what's with the never-ending concern?"

"You're our friend," he said simply as if that should explain everything. When she merely blinked at him, he smiled and said, "We just want to make sure you're happy and burden-free."

"Well, I am," Grace said, her gaze sliding to the table.

A knock on the front door interrupted whatever Adam was going to say. She started to stand only to be waved back in her chair. "You may be here all the time, but you don't actually live here," he said as he stood. Then he leaned down so that his mouth was level with her ear. "By the way, you can fool most of the people most of the time, but you can't fool me at all." With that unsettling message, he proceeded to the door.

Grace mentally shook herself. _He doesn't know_, she told herself. _He couldn't possibly know. If he did, he'd have said something by now._ From the moment he'd moved back to Arcadia, Adam had been more attentive toward Grace than he had been since before his mother died. He'd made a point of showing an interest in her life without prying the way Joan did. It was almost like he was looking out for her, playing the role of big brother the way he had after Aaron left. She wondered what he'd say if he knew she and Luke had slept together.

Joan's squeal of joy brought Grace back to the moment. "I can't believe you're here," she exclaimed. "When did you get in? Are you hungry?"

"No, I ate already," the visitor said.

Grace stilled. It couldn't be Luke, could it? Slowly, she turned and saw Luke hug his sister. She almost frowned when she noticed Adam watching her. Then he raised his eyebrow at her and it was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping. He _did_ know. How on Earth had he figured it out? And had he told Joan? Grace sincerely hoped he hadn't. She could only imagine Joan's reaction to such news: complete disgust or complete elation. Grace didn't want to deal with either.

Inwardly steeling herself to act naturally, she stood and smirked at Luke and Joan's unabashed display of sibling affection. "Hey, geek."

Luke's head whipped around toward her. Grace," he said finally. "Hey."

Smooth. "Miss home, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is, what, your third visit in five months?"

A disturbingly smug smile curved his lips. "You've been keeping count." It wasn't a question.

Grace refused to squirm under his knowing gaze. With a sardonic smirk, she said, "I'm an attentive woman."

"I'll bet."

Deciding not to dignify that loaded statement with a response, she glanced at Joan to find her grinning with an expression frighteningly similar to her brother's. Adam stared at his feet, struggling to keep the smile off his face. Rolling her eyes, she turned away and said, "I'm going to put on some music."

Grace flipped inattentively through Joan and Adam's CD collection. Why did Luke have to show up tonight? He was the last person she wanted to think about right now. It didn't help that Adam knew about them. Well, he couldn't really _know_, but suspected them. If Luke stayed around, it would only be a matter of time before Adam figured it out for sure. She didn't know if she could stand his prodding, gentle though it may be, to let Luke into her life.

"I don't remember you being a Patrick Swayze fan," Luke said as he came to a stop beside her.

Looking down to find a copy of the _Dirty Dancing_ soundtrack in her hands, Grace said, "Why do they have this?"

"I think the bigger question is why is it in your hands?"

"No clue," she said as she put it back on the shelf.

"So," Luke began as he examined the burnt CDs, "what have you been up to?"

"Excuse me?"

He sighed. "I'm trying to make conversation since our hosts are otherwise occupied."

Grace looked over her shoulder to see Joan and Adam dishing out the strawberry pie Joan had made. Every now and then one of them would bump into the other. They'd laugh and kiss before going back to their task. "Of course, they are," she muttered.

"So," Luke said again, "back to my question."

"Look," she whispered fiercely, "I don't know what's going on in that genius head of yours, but you can just forget it. And, while you're at it, stop with the chitchat."

Luke nodded as if pondering her words while looking at the CD case in his hands. Then he took the CD out and put it in the stereo. "Still pushing me away, huh?"

Grace took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. Why couldn't Luke ever leave anything alone? When she trusted herself to speak, she said quietly, "This isn't me pushing you away or running away from you or any other inane thing you can come up with. We had a one night thing, nothing more, nothing less. What I'm doing now is putting it behind me, you know, moving on. You should try it."

"You're going to move on by ignoring what happened?" Luke asked, his voice carefully neutral. "Good luck with that."

"What do you want from me?" she snapped.

He simply raised an eyebrow and pushed the stereo's play button.

"Dessert?" Joan asked from the dining table as an upbeat R&B intro filled the room. She and Adam had set three servings of pie on the table and she was looking at them expectantly. _As if she doesn't sense the tension_, Grace thought bitterly. _The woman's like a bloodhound when it comes to this sort of thing._

"Sure," Luke said and headed toward the table.

With a reluctant sigh, Grace followed only to be stopped the lyrics streaming from the stereo:

I've been thinkin' 'bout you for quite a while  
You're on my mind every day and every night  
My every thought is you, the things you do  
Seems so satisfying to me, I must confess it, girl.

_You've got to be kidding me_, she thought as she glared at Luke. "I have to go."

"Why?" Joan asked, looking up at Grace's sudden announcement.

"I have some work I need to do," she lied as she grabbed her coat.

"But . . ."

"I'll talk to you later." Grace left before either of them could stop her. As sped off, she wondered what she was going to do now that Luke was in town. Why couldn't her life ever be simple?


	10. April 19, 2015

A/N: There's some cursing in this chapter. I think I'll be done with chapter 11 by Sunday night. Thanks so much for the reviews. They make my day. Oh, and **nyklm**, the shirt Grace wears in Luke's dream is in reference to chapter 9 of WOJB when she's wearing one of his shirts to sleep in.

Disclaimer: I've never been in this situation, so I could be talking completely out the side of my head. All I ask is that you trust me (and tell me if I'm way off base).

Chapter Theme Song: None because I think this is the kind of scene that should let the emotion sing for itself.

* * *

She'd never been so nervous in her life. Grace gradually reached her hand out to the slim, plastic stick as if it were a poisonous snake ready to strike at a moment's notice. "You're being ridiculous," she scolded herself. "So what if the appearance of one or two lines will change your life forever? You're going to find out eventually. Eventually may as well be now."

Taking a sharp, deep breath, Grace picked up the stick and forced herself to look at it. Her breath came out in a hard puff. One line meant no. Two meant yes. There were two lines.

Eyes riveted to the stick, Grace didn't even notice that she'd sunk to the bathroom floor. Her mind wouldn't wrap itself around the idea of being pregnant. She couldn't be pregnant. Pregnancy, when successful, led to a baby. Or babies. Her cousin Isaac's wife had had triplets the first time she'd gotten pregnant. Suddenly, Grace saw herself pushing a triple stroller with three squalling infants with wire-rimmed glasses and forced down the urge to hurl.

This couldn't be happening. She didn't want kids. They were okay in doses. She'd enjoyed hanging out with them yesterday at Joan and Adam's housewarming, but one of the great things about it was that she could give them back when they got on her nerves. You had to be patient to have children. Patient and warm and affectionate. _Joan_ could have kids. _She'd_ like wrapping them in her arms and playing with them and kissing them, telling them bedtime stories and soothing their fears when they had evil koala bear dreams. But Grace was . . . well, Grace. She wasn't patient or warm or affectionate. She'd worked hard not to be at great personal price.

Tears of fear and frustration glittered in her eyes. She didn't want this. She couldn't be pregnant. They'd been careful. But the little stick had two lines and she had her suspicions of the last week. The suspicion that her night with Luke would not be so easy to bury or hide.

"Fuck," she cried and threw the stick across the small bathroom. "Damn it!" The tears spilled down her face now, hot and fast, but she didn't care. She was trapped now: pregnant by a man she didn't want to be bound to with a father who'd never forgive her if she got rid of it. Grace laughed bitterly as she laid her head on her raised knees. Her father would forgive her, in time, if she got an abortion. He'd forgiven Rachel. But her family had finally managed to get past all of the shit that had separated them for years. If she got an abortion, it would set them back at least eleven years. She knew this for a fact. There was family precedent.

But then, an abortion wasn't really an option for her anyway. Grace fully believed that a woman should have the right to choose, but the good little Jewish girl she'd been raised to be detested the idea as a personal choice. What right did she have to "get rid" of it just because she was scared and the pregnancy was unplanned? How could she selfishly and cavalierly deprive the fetus inside her of the chance to live just because it meant that Luke would definitely become a part of her life then?

Because he would. Grace knew without a doubt that Luke would insist on being involved, being a part of the pregnancy and a part of the child's life and, by extension, a part of her life. It was hard enough protecting him (and her) from the disaster a relationship between them was bound to be without him being around all the time. And he would be around all the time. Because he was a good person, a good man, and he'd be a good father. How would she be able to resist him if he was around constantly, being himself and chipping away at her wall? She needed her wall. Luke and a baby would wear it away bit by bit until she was exposed and vulnerable and she wouldn't be that again. She'd learned her lessons the first time; she didn't need a second go around.

Grace balled her hands into fists were they lay on the floor, letting her short nails dig into her palms. She was panicking and she knew it. Panicking wouldn't help and it wouldn't change anything. She needed to think clearly. The pain helped. It pushed back the uncertainty and the anxiety and the tiny part of her that she refused to acknowledge that wanted to rub her stomach and smile and giggle at the prospect of having Luke's kid. "You don't love him. You don't know him. He's not the same person you knew in high school and, even if he were, you're both past that now." She whispered the words to herself, hoping that saying them aloud would help the sentiment ring true in her mind.

_You love his essence_, a voice whispered through her mind. _You love his silent promise of completeness. He'll show you how to be whole. You want that. Why won't you admit it? Why won't you let him in?_

"This has nothing to do with that," she muttered fiercely. "And it's not true anyway."

_Adam was right. If you let him, he'll heal you._

"Shut up." She was trembling with her conflicting thoughts and pressed her clenched fists to her knees like she was trying to hold herself together. Grace focused on emptying her mind. Don't think about it, not yet anyway. Wait until later, after she'd eaten and the idea had time to sink in. Then she'd think about how to tell her father and Luke and everybody else. Then she'd think about what she was going to do with a baby.

Grace wiped her eyes and blew her nose before getting up and going to her bedroom. She got in the bed, pulling the covers tightly around her, and closed her eyes. She was tired. So very tired. She couldn't think about this now. As sleep tugged at her eyes, she welcomed it. She'd think about the mess she was in later. She yawned. Later. And then sleep claimed her.


	11. Is She or Isn't She?

A/N: Okay, here's chapter 11--yet another chapter that didn't quite turn out the way I wanted. Oh, well. Just to let you know, the next chapter will be my last for a while. Why, you ask. Because I have no clue where I'm going with this story. Believe it or not, this story is totally democratic. Seriously, make suggestions. I want them. Heck, I need them. Anyway, this doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing. I'm just switching my focus to my other poor, neglected fic and the new ones that are demanding to be written/started. Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Don't be too mad at me. R&R. Alexandri

Chapter Theme Song: Cold, Cold Heart by Hank Williams.

* * *

Luke stared at Joan and Adam's front door, saddened by Grace's abrupt departure. Not surprised by it, but deeply saddened all the same. When was she going to stop running from him?

"You wouldn't happen to want her pie, would you, Adam?" Joan asked softly.

"No."

"Luke . . ."

"I don't want mine."

She nodded and stood. "I'll just put these in the refrigerator," she said as she gathered the dessert plates.

"You want me to help?" Adam asked.

Joan shook her head and smiled. "I got it," she said and headed to the kitchen.

"I shouldn't have chosen that CD," Luke said, his voice hollow and distant to his own ears.

"Why did you?" Adam asked.

Luke shrugged. "It was called _Songs About Her_. I didn't know what was on it."

"She'll get over it," Adam said. "She'll come around."

"Maybe, but will I be alive to experience it?"

Chuckling, Adam gently guided Luke to the living room and sat down. Luke followed suit. "You're going to have to be patient with her. Grace learned early that caring about people made you vulnerable. People can be careless with others' feelings. She doesn't like putting herself in that position."

Luke thought about that. It made sense. But Grace wasn't like that with Adam. There was an easy rapport between them, had been since Joan pulled Adam out of himself in high school. The pair had a sort of close, effortless relationship like they were brother and sister instead of old friends. He'd watched them when he'd come home for the wedding, mostly because he'd been unable to stop watching her. Grace and Adam would have silent conversations across the room, which, strangely enough, Adam usually seemed to direct. She visibly relaxed when she was near him. If it hadn't been for the purely fraternal vibe between them, Luke would have felt compelled to question the nature of their relationship before the wedding took place. "She doesn't mind caring about you." It was an observation, nothing more.

Adam frowned a bit as he considered Luke's statement. Finally, he said, "I was sort of grandfathered onto her list of people she can be open with. But, for a long time, we were kind of. . . estranged. I think the only reason we are the way we are is because she can't really hide from me. I know why she's the way she is because I was there. Plus, I think she forgave me when I forgave her. After we met your sister and started living again, we realized how much we needed each other and how stupid we'd been to forget that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Luke informed his brother-in-law.

"I know."

After a moment, Luke said, "You could explain it to me."

"I could," Adam agreed, an admonishing yet amused expression on his face, "but I'm not going to. Partly because Grace would kick my ass if I did, but mostly because I'm sure you'd rather have her trust you enough to tell you."

Adam was right. Not for the first time since he'd started coming home, Luke marveled at the change in his brother-in-law. He was still the calm, soft-spoken Adam he'd known, but now there was a quiet confidence and sagacity about him that Luke hadn't expected to find. Joan entered the living room then and settled on the sofa beside her husband before tucking her body into the curve of his. Adam's arm automatically snaked around Joan's waist and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. A tiny, secret smile curved Joan's lips. The whole exchange seemed remarkably intimate. Luke looked away, suddenly feeling voyeuristic.

"It's getting late," he announced as he stared at his hands. "I should probably be going."

"Don't go yet," Joan entreated. "You just got here and I haven't seen you since the wedding."

Luke smiled. "Didn't think you'd miss me that much."

"Well, I have been otherwise occupied . . ."

"Too much information, Joan," Luke interrupted.

Joan grinned. "However," she continued, "that doesn't mean I stopped thinking about everyone else. So tell me how your thesis defense went."

Luke let himself be sucked into the conversation, knowing that none of them was really interested in his thesis defense or the way the students treated the new Mrs. Rove. His thoughts were never far from Grace. What did talking about their night together take away from her? Wouldn't it clarify things, make everything easier? As it stood, he was convinced that it meant as much to her as it did to him. But for her to admit that meant admitting that she felt something for him and that was something Grace Polk would avoid doing with her dying breath.

_So why do you keep pursuing her_, he asked himself. Because he couldn't seem to help himself. For whatever reason, something inside of him knew that she was worth all the hassle and the heartache. If only she felt he was worth the risk.

Joan's low, fiercely whispered "We should tell him" caught Luke's attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Adam and Joan had turned in toward each other, their heads close together. He must have gone deep into his own thoughts because they didn't seem to notice that he was now very much aware of them.

"No, Jane," Adam whispered back, "we shouldn't."

"He deserves to know."

"Only if it's true and we have no proof that it is."

"But she's still being so weird . . ."

"Which isn't proof."

"But . . ."

"No," Adam interrupted gently. "No buts. We're not telling your brother."

"Why not?" Joan whispered back, her frustration evident.

"Because right now all we have are suspicions and, even if we knew for a fact she was pregnant, it's not our place to tell him."

Luke bit back a gasp. They thought Grace was pregnant? And, if they thought he should know, that meant they thought he was the father, right? Which meant they'd figured out that he and Grace had slept together. Suppressing a sigh, he wondered if Grace could really be pregnant. They'd been careful, but nothing was one hundred percent. He tried to imagine them with a baby. He saw the two of them with a tiny blond newborn with her blue-gray eyes. Grace was holding her (for some reason, he imagined a girl) but she was turned away from Luke as if she didn't want to acknowledge his part in their lives. She pushed him away even in his imagination. Only in his dreams could he get close to her.

"Luke?"

He looked up at the sound of his sister's voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm going to go." Luke stood. Joan and Adam stood with him.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Adam asked as they walked him to the front door.

"I'm okay," he assured as he kissed Joan good night. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure," Joan nodded.

Luke plodded to his car and got in. As he drove through the empty Arcadian streets, he wondered what he was going to do about Grace's possible pregnancy. If she was indeed carrying his baby, he couldn't go to D.C.; he should stay in town to help Grace. But that would mean leaving Dr. Gilmartin (the professor he was supposed to assist this summer) in a bind. Maybe he could assist Dr. Gilmartin during the week and come to Arcadia on the weekends. Of course, Grace probably wouldn't want him around that much. But could he live with himself if he didn't do everything in his power to be there for her? And did she have the right to cut him out of their child's life when he had never been anything but good to her?

Knowing he needed answers, Luke turned toward Grace's apartment. She may not want to let him in her life, but if she was pregnant, he was not going to allow her to keep him out of their child's life. He pulled up in front of her apartment and got out. He knocked on her door before he could talk himself out of what he was about to do.

"Who is it?" her voice called.

"It's Luke."

"Go home."

He sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I need to talk to you."

"I keep telling you we have nothing to talk about."

"You can either let me in now or we'll have this conversation through your front door."

"Go away, Luke," she demanded. "I'm not in the mood."

"Is that because you're naturally moody or because you're pregnant?"

The locks came off and she jerked the door open. "What did you say?"

"I said," he began loudly, "is that because you're nat . . ."

"Get in here," she said as she yanked him into her apartment.

"Is it true?" he asked as Grace closed the door and leaned against it.

"Who told you I'm pregnant?" she demanded.

Luke chuckled, a mix of anger, resignation, and sadness. "So it is true."

"Who told you?"

"What difference does it make?" Luke challenged as anger began to boil inside his chest. "It wasn't you. It is mine, isn't it? You should have told me!"

Grace sighed, pushed off of the door, and collapsed on the sofa. "There's nothing to tell."

"Nothing to . . ." Luke sputtered incredulously. "Do you hate me that much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm not pregnant."

It was on the tip of Luke's tongue to ask if she was lying. After all, if she said no then she had hope that he'd leave her be. But Grace didn't lie. Withheld virtually all her personal information, but not lie, not about something like this. Then it occurred to him that she may not be pregnant now but that didn't mean she hadn't been. "Were you?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

Luke sat in the armchair and tried to gauge Grace's current mood. She was being surprisingly forthcoming, but she sounded so very tired. He hated to force the conversation when she obviously didn't want to discuss it, but he had to know what had happened. "What does that mean?" he asked quietly.

"It means the home test said yes. When I went to the doctor for confirmation, it was negative. The doctor said that I may have taken the test too soon or I was pregnant and it didn't take. A chemical pregnancy I think it's called. Whatever. I thought I was. Turns out I'm not. Are you satisfied?"

She'd started out sounding calm and normal and ended sounding angry and loud. Luke sat beside her and peered into her face. She turned away. "Did you want to be pregnant?"

"Of course, not," she snapped without looking at him.

"I'm sorry, Grace," he said. "I never meant for things to . . ."

"It doesn't matter. I'd really like to be alone right now."

"Okay." Luke got to his feet and stared down at the top of her bowed head. "Grace . . ." he began, not knowing what he intended to say, but feeling like he should say something.

"Just go."

He nodded though she wasn't looking and headed to the door. With one last look, he said, "Good night, Grace," and left.


	12. Can't Hurry Love

A/N: Woo-hoo. It's back. I was supposed to have this chapter up weeks ago, but I just wasn't inspired even though I knew mostly what happened in it. That turned out to be a good thing since the middle section turned out totally different than I thought it would. BTW, Adam is in no danger of heart trouble so don't even think it.

Thanks so much for your reviews and support and love of this story. And thanks for convincing me not to make Grace pregnant. It was a crutch on my part because, truthfully, she intimidates the hell out of me as a character. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I make no promises for when to expect the next one since I still don't know how I'm going to go about addressing the issues, etc., that I want to address. But I am working. R&R. Alexandri.

Chapter Theme Song: The story's theme _The Space Between _by Dave Matthews Band.

* * *

Grace sat motionless on her couch, trying to collect herself after her encounter with Luke. There were too many emotions rushing through her to make sense of them all. Why did it all have to be so difficult? She didn't want Luke. Actually, if she were completely honest with herself, she desperately wanted Luke and hated him for it. She wasn't supposed to feel like this, wasn't supposed to want someone so much that thinking about him physically hurt. She knew what happened when she opened herself to other people. Everything would be hunky-dory for a while until something happened in the other person's life that meant far more to them than Grace ever would.

"It was just supposed to be one night," she exclaimed into the quiet. One night to appease her curiosity and the fantasies that she'd never admit having. One night to pretend that they were more than just . . . what exactly were they? They weren't friends. They certainly weren't lovers. They were more than acquaintances, yet they didn't have a definable relationship. They just were. Why couldn't Luke leave it at that? Why did he have to pursue a relationship? Why couldn't it just be sex? Grace almost laughed at that. She knew why. Because Luke had always had a thing for her and, if _she_ wanted him this badly, she could only imagine what he was going through.

But it all would have blown over eventually. Of that she was certain. Sooner or later, Luke would have gotten the message that they weren't going to happen and he would've moved on to someone who could love him in equal measure. His pursuit of her would have died if he'd never heard about her supposed pregnancy. She knew he wouldn't stop hounding her until he was certain she wasn't pregnant. After all, he was a smart cookie, a virtual genius, a scientist. It would occur to him that she might lie to get rid of him. Would it really be so bad if he kept trying?

Angry at the traitorous turn of her thoughts, Grace got off the couch and went to her bedroom for shoes. She needed a way to channel the energy vibrating through her. Grabbing her keys, she headed outside. Ordinarily, she'd have gone for a walk, but she headed for the Jeep. She knew her possible pregnancy wasn't something that had just popped into Luke's head. His question indicated that someone else had given him the idea. And there was only one person Grace could think of who would tell Luke something like this. Gritting her teeth, she cranked the ignition and began to drive. She was ready for a confrontation.

* * *

Adam frowned at the sound of an angry voice coming from the living room. He came out of the spare room, which they'd turned into a guest room/home office, to find Grace in Joan's face, fuming.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Your wife told her brother I'm pregnant which, by the way, is not true."

"No, I didn't," Joan said, meeting his eyes as if she desperately needed an ally.

"Then why did he come to my apartment demanding to know if it was true?" Grace thundered. "I figured Rove knew but he wouldn't tell. You would in some misguided attempt to 'help.'"

"But, Grace, I . . ."

"If I need your help, I'll tell you."

"Because you're always so forthcoming," Joan said, the beginnings of anger in her voice.

Grace glared at her friend. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you never tell me anything," Joan cried. "We've been friends for over ten years and I'm still waiting for you to realize that."

"It's because we've been friends so long that I know better than to confide in you."

"Grace," Adam said, stepping forward at Joan's hurt expression.

"I don't betray my friends," Joan stated.

Grace scoffed. "If I'd told you anything about me, you'd have told everything you knew before I finish speaking."

"Okay, yes, when we first met, I tended to blab things," Joan admitted. "Now, I share information on a need-to-know basis. I know something happened between you two. If you were pregnant, Luke needed to know. But, then, I've grown up, Grace. What about you?"

Adam stepped between the two women, sensing that Grace was reaching her snapping point. "Jane, that wasn't necessary."

"Then tell your buddy to stop acting like a spoiled brat."

"Watch it, Girardi," Grace warned.

"Rove!"

"What difference does it make? You still told your brother my personal business, which you had no right to do."

"Fine. I admit it. I wanted to tell him. God knows you never would. But I didn't. I never said a word to him."

"And I should believe you, why?"

"I don't give a damn what you believe."

"Am I supposed to be surprised?"

"You know what, the hell with you."

"That is enough," Adam declared, slamming his hand down on the counter they were next to, startling the women. "Step back, both of you."

They ignored him, intent on staring each other down.

"Grace," he said, glaring at her.

She stood straighter and kept her eyes focus on Joan.

Adam turned his gaze on his wife. "Jane."

She didn't budge.

He sighed. "Joan, please?"

Joan's eyes shot to Adam's face, tears gathering in them. Her mouth fell open slightly and her bottom lip quivered before she snapped it shut. She turned slowly on her heel and went into their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

Adam suppressed another sigh. He'd just hurt his wife and he knew he was going to pay for it. But right now, preserving the friendship was more important. He returned his gaze to his best friend. "Grace."

"What, Rove?"

"Neither of us told Luke you were pregnant."

"You're just saying that to cover for your wife."

"No, I'm not. I was with her all night and she didn't tell him."

"Then how did he get the idea?" she challenged.

"He may have overheard us talking . . ."

"You were talking about it?" Grace interrupted. "Why is it even any of your concern?"

"Aside from you being our closest friend?" he asked pointedly. "Aside from Luke being Jane's brother? You're the closest thing either of us has to a sister and, believe it or not, we care about what goes on in your life."

Grace folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "That doesn't excuse anything."

For a long moment, Adam stared at his best friend and wondered what it was going to take to break through the wall she'd built around herself. "Maybe it doesn't," he said finally, "but it's better to have people care about you than to be alone."

The fierceness in her eyes wavered a bit and she raised her chin in an attempt to hide it. "What are you talking about, Rove?"

"I'm talking about you, Grace," he exclaimed, frustrated by her obstinacy. "You used to be happy. You used to laugh, really laugh. You used to do cartwheels for no other reason than the weather was nice and you liked the way the grass felt under your hands. You used to have real friends. Then your family started having problems and you pushed almost everybody away."

"What's the point of this little history lesson?"

"The point," Adam said, glaring at her, "is that the real you is trapped somewhere inside that inner fortress you've built and she's suffocating. Why won't you let anyone in?"

Grace's face darkened, but her eyes said she'd heard every word and knew he was right. Adam knew that meant she was about to lash out. "Just because you let Girardi wrap you around her finger doesn't mean I'm going to . . ."

"What, Grace?" he challenged. "You're not going to what? Let yourself be happy? You're not going to let yourself find love and companionship? Why not? Because your family fell apart when you were eight?"

"Excuse me if I'm not eager to trust people when my own family abandoned me."

"My mother killed herself," he shouted, desperate to get through to her. "She deliberately overdosed on pills. My father and I weren't enough to get her through whatever pain she was feeling. Her sorrow trumped us. She's gone and she's never coming back. That's being abandoned, Grace. If you don't believe me, I have a tombstone and likely a soon-to-be stepmother to prove it."

Adam stood staring at Grace, his face flushed in the aftermath of his tirade. His entire body trembled as he tried to contain the riot of emotions his outburst released. He was vaguely aware that Joan stood behind them, her concern washing over them in waves. But he could only focus on the weird, fluttery feeling in his chest and the tears glimmering in Grace's stricken eyes.

"I know it hurt when all that crap with your family happened," Adam said quietly. "And I empathize with you. But that was almost twenty years ago. Get over it. Let it go. Your family is back together. Put the past behind you and stop letting it fuck with your life." He felt Joan put her hand on his back and he closed his eyes, fighting not to break down completely.

"Adam," Grace whispered.

He shook his head and opened his eyes. "Having relationships and sharing yourself with other people is not easy. It can hurt like hell and it can give you joy. Not just happiness, Grace. Joy. Sometimes even freedom. But your relationships can't be solely on your terms. You have to give to get. You have to . . . you have to take calculated risks. If you don't, you're going to be alone for a long time yet, and I know you don't want that.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to . . . ." Adam stopped. He tried to think up an excuse. It would be rude to just walk away. But he couldn't think of anything. He needed to calm down but he didn't know how. Finally, he shrugged it off. He was too tired to care. "Lock the door on your way out."

Grace and Joan watched him go to the bedroom then looked at each other. Both were too shocked by Adam's flare-up to know what to say. Finally, Grace said, "I didn't mean to . . ."

Joan shook her head, cutting her off. "Tomorrow," she said, not unkindly. When Grace looked back, clearly scared and uncertain, Joan smiled and nodded reassuringly. "Tomorrow," she repeated before following her husband to their bedroom.

* * *

She was an abrasive, insensitive, self-involved ass. There were no other words for it. Grace drove back to her apartment, Adam's wounded face as he yelled about his mother following her the entire way. How could she have forgotten about that? How could she have even thought to compare her situation to his? How was she still holding on to what happened when her family was back together when Adam had managed to move on and his family would never be the same?

Grace parked in her spot in front of her apartment and rested her head against the headrest. If Adam, who had always been more sensitive than her, could get over his past, why couldn't she? What was wrong with her that she couldn't let her past go?

She got out of the Jeep, not really wanting to think about her questions when she was so emotionally exhausted. She made her way to her apartment only to stop when she realized that Luke sat in front of her door.

He smiled rather sheepishly as she slowly approached him. Despite the leap her heart did at the sight of him (something it always did though she rarely acknowledged it), she knew she didn't have the emotional wherewithal to go through another round with him. She opened her mouth to say as much but he spoke first.

"What is it about love and romance that makes otherwise rational and intelligent people throw reason and caution out the window?" he queried amiably. "Even a child with only a rudimentary understanding of logic would have figured it out by now. So why am I having such a hard time?"

"What are you babbling about?" Grace asked tiredly as she came to a stop at his feet.

Instead of answering, Luke held his hand out to her. She looked at it with a raised eyebrow. "You need a hand up?" she asked dubiously. "Dude, you're not that old."

He simply smiled and tipped his head toward the empty space next to him. "Join me?"

Grace mentally estimated the likelihood of convincing Luke to leave without having whatever conversation he had in mind. She decided that it was probably less than zero in spite of his apparent pleasantness. With a silent sigh, she took his hand and allowed him to guide her to the space next to him.

She heaved a sigh and waited for Luke to speak. When he didn't, she turned to him. "Are you going to tell me what you were talking about or what?"

Luke chuckled self-consciously and smiled. "Ever since we were teenagers, I've been trying to force you to be ready for a relationship with me. Trying to get you to see me as something other than a temporary make-out partner. Trying to get you to see me as something other than Joan's little brother. I neglected to consider what you might need from me."

Shoulders slumped in exasperated confusion, Grace said, "I'm getting really tired of asking this tonight, but what?"

"In high school, I did something to scare you off," he said by way of explanation. "I still don't know what it was. But the first time you show even the slightest interest . . ."

"I think having sex with you four times in one night is more than slight interest."

"We were both under the influence and feeling a little lustful," he excused. "Anyway, we have sex and I try to convert that into a relationship."

"What's wrong with that exactly?" Grace asked. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

Luke arched an eyebrow at her. She shrugged and arched her brow in challenge. He shook his head and laughed. "Yes, but I skipped, like, five steps in my eagerness."

"There are five steps?" she asked cheekily.

"You know what I mean. I've been trying to rush things," he admitted. "Trust, understanding, some level of synchronicity—those are necessary for a successful relationship. We don't have that."

Grace looked down at her hands resting in her lap. He sounded like he was giving up on the possibility of them being a couple. It was what she'd been pushing for, yet his impending capitulation didn't sit well with her. She frowned as she trying to keep her thoughts out of her voice. "So what are you saying?" she asked, praying her voice sounded neutral.

"I think we should start over, be friends."

She raised her eyes to find him staring at her. She stared back, searching his eyes to see what he really meant. "You don't want to be my friend," she said quietly, her heart giving a horrible, little flip.

"I don't want to be just your friend," he whispered. "There's a difference."

"Oh."

Grace turned away and closed her eyes. How had she gone from being upset over her fight with Adam and Joan to feeling like this in so short a time period? Luke's whispered answer scared her at the same time happiness and relief that he hadn't given up flooded her. What was wrong with her? A relationship between them wasn't a good idea.

_Why not?_ The annoying voice that seemed to have taken up residence in her head asked. _What's the worst that could happen if you and Luke had an intimate relationship?_ She could have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the question. Instead she shoved it to the back of her mind. She didn't want to think about it right now.

"I'm going to D.C. for the summer in a couple of weeks," he said, breaking the silence.

"The research assistant thing, right?"

"Yeah." He fell silent only to speak a few minutes later. "I'd like to call you while I'm there."

Grace's eyes flew open. "Excuse me?"

"As a friend," he said with a smile. "Can I call you as a friend?"

Dumbly, she nodded.

"Good." Luke reached out toward her. She helplessly followed his hand with her eyes. She almost sighed as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You look like you've had a long night."

"You could say that."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Slow your roll, Einstein," she scoffed. "We're not there yet."

"Fair enough." He patted her hand and got to his feet. "I should get going. I just wanted to let you know what I was thinking. Good night, Grace."

She watched him leave, unconsciously appreciating the lanky smoothness of his walk. Though she hated to admit it, Grace felt lonelier with each step he took toward his car. When he'd reached the edge of the parking lot, she called, "Hey, Girardi."

Luke turned and started toward her. "Yeah?" he asked when he was in normal speaking volume range.

"Sit with me for a while?"

"Okay," he said with a little nod. He settled into his place next to her. After a moment of silence, he indicated his shoulder and said, "It's available if you want it."

Grace smirked and shook her head. "Thanks. That's good to know."


	13. Mending Bridges

Chapter Song: _Have a Little Faith in Me_.  The only version I know is by Jewel, so let's go with that one.

* * *

Adam lay on his side, gazing down at his sleeping wife. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched her. She looked so open when she slept, so peaceful. As much as he wanted to stare into Joan's bright, brown eyes, hear her soft, sleepy voice say "Good morning," feel her cuddle against him as she was wont to do on Saturday mornings, Adam wasn't eager for her to wake up.

He could only imagine how upset Joan would be when she woke. Last night, she'd put her hurt aside because of his outburst. After Grace had left, she'd found him sitting on the end of the bed with his face buried in his hands. Without a word, Joan had climbed on the bed and wrapped herself around him from behind. The simple gesture had been the last straw. He'd pulled Joan's arms tighter around him and cried. As his tears slowed, he'd wondered if he would ever get over his mother's death. It kept catching him unawares at the most inopportune times.

She'd removed his shoes as he'd sniffled and coaxed him into bed. Then she'd lain down beside him and held him close, silently letting him know she was there and that she understood. Now it was morning and his emotional crisis was over. She wouldn't forget that he'd called her Joan. And he wasn't sure she'd accept his reason for doing so.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Adam refocused his gaze on Joan. She'd awakened sometime during his reverie judging from the lack of sleepiness in her eyes. "Good morning."

"Morning," she returned. Then she smiled. "My offer's still on the table."

He smiled in spite of himself. "I was thinking about what I said to you last night."

"It's okay, Adam."

"What?" That was the last thing he'd expected her to say.

"It's okay. I understand."

"You do?"

Joan nodded and caressed his cheek, bewildering him even more. "You were trying to keep the situation from getting worse. You did what you had to do."

"I didn't have to call you what I called you."

Laughing, Joan said, "It's not like you called me something bad. You said my name. I'll admit that it hurt, but it was supposed to. It was supposed to make me stop and think about what I was doing."

"I still could have come up with a better way," Adam insisted.

"Maybe. But your way was effective and, besides that, you had every right to be angry with me."

"But I wasn't angry. I just needed one of you to back down and I knew it wasn't going to be Grace, so it had to be you."

"I know," Joan said. "But the fact remains I was wrong. Grace shouldn't have come over and attacked me, but she was right. I would have told Luke if you hadn't stopped me. I meddle."

"That's one of the things I love about you: the way you care so much."

"Caring and meddling are two different things. I can care about Grace without constantly invading her personal boundaries."

"Somebody needs to invade her boundaries."

Joan grinned. "Maybe Luke will have better luck than I did."

"You think so?"

"He's got the Girardi determination on his side and they do have a 'past,'" Joan mused. "I'd say if anyone had a chance of getting through to Grace, it's Luke."

"I hope so."

"You're really worried about her, aren't you?" Joan asked, frowning.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Then why don't you talk to her about it?" Joan asked. "Let her know you're concerned."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Adam tried to think of how to make Joan understand something he didn't entirely understand himself. He knew that Grace listened to him, that his opinion mattered to her. But he also knew that his and Grace's relationship wasn't what it once was. She might have taken his advice when they were twelve, but that was a long time past and his influence on her had beenacutely diminished. Frowning in confusion, he said the first thing that came to mind. "I think I'm part of the problem."

"How so?"

"I don't know," he answered, slightly surprised by his revelation.

"You don't know or you won't tell me?"

He thought about it then said, much to his astonishment, "Both. I don't really know how I'm part of the problem. I just think that I am. But, if I did know, I wouldn't tell you because it wouldn't be my place."

"Okay."

"You aren't mad?"

Joan shook her head. "A little miffed but that's because I'm nosy. Most meddlers usually are."

Adam laughed before wrapped her in his arms and kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry I have to keep all this stuff about Grace from you."

"I understand," she said, snuggling in his arms. "They aren't your secrets to tell. And it's not like I don't have secrets from her. I never told her about the whole God thing and that's a pretty big secret so I guess she and I are even."

She fell silent and Adam felt her mood shift. He realized she hadn't mentioned God much, or at all, since they'd gotten back together. He suddenly wondered why. "Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"How's God?"

Joan pulled back and stared up at him, her mouth hanging slightly open. "He's fine, I guess."

"Good."

"Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "You haven't mentioned Him since we got back together and I just wondered."

"Oh. Well, I hadn't seen Him much and He never came up so I didn't mention Him."

She quieted again, this time playing with a button on his shirt. Something about this conversation saddened her, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. "And now?"

"And now what?" she asked, raising her eyes to his.

"Have you seen Him recently?"

Joan's eyes flicked back to his shirt as she worried her bottom lip. He let her take her time. It was one of the things she'd always had difficulty sharing. Finally, she said, "Not since the wedding."

"He was at our wedding?"

"Actually He was a She then."

"Tall, curly brown hair, beautiful face?"

"Yeah," she said, surprise in her tone. "How did you know?"

"Followed your line of sight as you were coming up the aisle," he answered. "Do you know why He hasn't been around?"

Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded despite her attempt to smile. "He won't be coming around anymore. He told me after the wedding rehearsal."

"Oh, Jane," he said, gathering her in his arms and kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." She buried her face in his chest, her head tucked neatly under his chin. "It's just as well, I suppose. Having me run around doing all kinds of weird stuff could only last so long, right?"

"I guess."

"I miss Him, though."

"He was a big part of your life," Adam said, stroking her hair. "Why didn't you tell me He was gone?"

"I don't really talk about that part of my life much and, apparently, our time was up. He said it was time." She shook her head. "I didn't want to dwell on it. Plus, I had you, so losing Him didn't hurt as much."

"I hardly compare to God."

Joan shrugged. "True, but I'd much rather have sex with you."

"You had sex with God?"

"What?" she exclaimed, jerking upright. "No." She shuddered and stared down at him, disgust thoroughly etched on her face. "Of course, not. Why would I . . . ew. I feel dirty." With that, she climbed out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.

Adam bit his lip as he stared at the bathroom door. He'd only been teasing but Joan's reaction was priceless. He eased out of bed and headed for the bathroom, undressing as he went. After all, the least he could do was apologize for grossing her out.

* * *

"This is fun," Joan said. 

Grace glanced at her, eyebrow raised and lips quirked. "Sitting in the middle of the mall eating ice cream cones and watching people with questionable fashion sense and too many bags is fun?"

"Well, when you put it like that, yes."

Laughing, Grace rolled her eyes and said, "I can't believe you convinced me to come out here in the first place. If any place is the hotbed of gross consumerism, it's the mall."

"I forgot I was talking to the queen of consignment stores," Joan said with a smile.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with consignment stores."

"Found some of my favorite skirts at one," Joan agreed.

Grace scoffed at her friend and leaned back on their bench. "Where's Adam?"

"Spending the day with his dad. He's afraid Carl's been feeling neglected since we got married."

"And Sharon?"

"Catching up with old friends."

"Right." Grace had been surprised when Joan called her earlier and asked if she wanted to hang out. Had the situation been reversed and Joan had barged into her apartment with insults and unfounded accusations, Grace wouldn't have been nearly as forgiving, certainly not so soon after the incident. As much as Grace feared confiding in Joan, she knew that Joan would always forgive her, no matter how irrational or hurtful she was. "I was going to call you," she said softly.

"You were?"

Grace frowned at Joan's tone. Instead of sounding surprised by her revelation, Joan seemed to be nonchalantly prompting Grace to continue. Adam often used that tone when he talked to Grace as if he was always one step ahead of her. Now Joan had picked it up. It was like she'd lost all of her mystique. Rather than get pissy about this lost ground, Grace put it out of her mind and focused on the issue at hand. "I shouldn't have done what I did last night."

Joan shrugged. "Then you should be having this conversation with Adam."

"No," Grace insisted, "I said some things to you that were unfair and untrue and . . ."

"I accept your apology," Joan interrupted. She smiled in the face of Grace's guilty bewilderment. "But only if you accept mine."

Grace laughed. Joan was the only person she'd ever known who forgave so easily. Even when she didn't deserve forgiveness—and there had been times when Grace had gone too far with her abrasiveness—Joan would pardon her offenses within two days. Sometimes, Grace envied Joan that ability. "How can you just forgive me like that?"

Licking her chocolate chip cookie dough cone, Joan gave her a sardonic smile. "Because you weren't wrong," she admitted. "I would have told Luke. I wanted to tell him even without concrete evidence. And I would have if Adam hadn't stopped me. Again."

"Again?"

A blush colored Joan's face and she glanced down at her lap. "The only reason Luke knew about your 'pregnancy' was because Adam was talking me out of saying anything for the second time."

"Did you bring it up on purpose so he'd overhear?" Grace asked, her innate suspicion rearing its head at Joan's admission.

"No," Joan said with a shake of her head. "That's way too passive for me."

Grace relaxed against the bench and licked her Rocky Road. "That's true."

They fell silent, finishing their ice cream. Grace wondered, for the first time since she'd met Joan, why she really kept everything from Joan. She suspected her 'conviction' that Joan would tell her secrets was an excuse despite the hint of truth in the assertion. Joan did have a hard time keeping secrets but she wasn't a gossip. With a sigh and a slight headache from trying to examine the depths of her psyche on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of a loud mall, Grace polished off the rest of her cone and laid her head on the back of the bench.

She'd begun to nod off when she heard Joan say, "I really am sorry, Grace."

"Me, too."

"I won't do it again."

Grace laughed at the thought of Joan minding her own business. "Yes, you will," she said before sitting up and facing her friend. "Why _do_ you insist on trying to 'fix' my life?"

Joan sighed. "I can't help myself."

"You can't help yourself?"

"No. It's like a compulsion," Joan confessed. "You know, 'Hi, my name is Joan and I'm an obsessive meddler.' I feel the need to try and make things better wherever I go."

Grace sucked her lips into her mouth and bit them in an attempt to not laugh. She wasn't successful. Resting her forehead on her raised knees, Grace laughed until her throat hurt.

"So glad my problem amuses you," Joan muttered, setting Grace off again.

When she could finally contain herself, Grace gave Joan an apologetic smile. "As far as obsessions go, it's not a bad one."

"Yeah, if only I could use it for good instead of evil."

"Don't you think you're being a little hard on yourself?"

Joan raised her eyebrow in challenge. "Are you going to say that the next time I butt into your life?"

"Probably not," Grace admitted.

"I didn't think so."

"But I'll try to be more understanding."

"I guess I can't ask for more than that," Joan conceded as she stood and stared expectantly at Grace. "Come on," she said when Grace stared back. "What's the point of being at the mall if we don't at least browse? It'll be fun. I promise."


	14. May 5, 2006

A/N: Finally, chapter fourteen's up. Yes, yes, I know--what the heck took so long? That would be laziness, three stories of my own, beta-ing for a better writer than myself and the fact that I have no clue where I'm going with this story from one chapter to the next. That will be my answer every time, just so you know. Do not expect chapter fifteen anytime soon.

Anyway, there are some people I'd like to thank: KateM for being a wonderful beta. It's because of her this chapter doesn't totally suck.

LushBaby for letting me absorb her story _Crazy For You_ into my universe. You should probably read it first. It's in my favorites.

Deadly Salami for picking up on the intentional edible symbolism. Joan's cone was symbolic, too, but I forgot what for. :)

Everyone who's reviewed my stories. I do love and appreciate them so.

And, last but not least, Observance for all your suggestions. They've been tumbling around in my mind for some time now (which hasn't helped speed me along) and I think some of them will be popping up in future chapters. Couldn't tell you when though.

Chapter Theme Song: _Nobody's Supposed to Be Here_ by Deborah Cox.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this storyline and a headache that nobody wants.

On with the story!

-----------------

Grace marched to school from her house with her head bowed, desperately trying to keep her mind off of the events of Friday night. Her memory, however, was persistent and continued to recall instance after instance of the night by the lake as it had done all weekend. The sound of Madonna's voice, still sweet with youthful naïveté and daring, combined with the strong, steady thump of Luke's heart still thrummed in her ear. She shivered with the recollection of the tender breeze that stroked her cheek and neck as Luke tightened his arms around her and caressed her back, his cheek grazing her hair, which was still slightly wavy. They'd spent the night making out and sharing little memories of their childhoods they'd all but forgotten. He'd told her about the time Joan had accidentally blown up his first chemistry set. She'd told him, under threat of death, about playing the Tin Man in the third grade production of _The Wizard of Oz_. Grace suspected she drifted off during Luke's confession about his past obsession with _Mighty Morphin Power Rangers_, which he insisted was strictly scientific in nature.

Violently shaking her head, Grace blinked back the unbidden tears stinging her eyes. Why was she doing this to herself? As good as Friday night had been, she and Luke couldn't happen. Saturday had made that truth painfully clear. She held back a sigh. Saturday had started out so well. The chill spring air had informed her that she wasn't at home in her bed, but it wasn't until a pair of warm arms had wrapped themselves around her from behind that that knowledge had penetrated her sleep-dulled mind. Instead of being afraid, she'd felt safe as if the unusual circumstances she knew she was in could become commonplace and she liked the idea. She'd scooted back into the warmth, only stopping when she felt something hard poking her lower back. She'd stiffened, her eyes popping open. The lake was such a dazzling, sparkling blue in the morning light, it hurt Grace's eyes. It took a second for all the clues to coalesce in her mind, but the minute they did, she bolted upright, glancing behind her to find Luke waking up.

Yawning, he stretched his long frame, apparently unaware of the bulge in his tuxedo pants. Grace averted her eyes and fought the blush trying to heat her cheeks. She so wasn't going down that road, mentally or otherwise, no matter how tempting. She didn't look at him again until she felt his hand glide down her arm, and then she focused solely on his face. He was smiling up at her. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," she answered, a little thrown by how comfortable he seemed. Maybe he thought he was dreaming. She reached forward and gave a hard, sharp pinch.

"Ow!" Luke cried, rubbing the spot she'd assaulted as he sat up. "Why did you do that?"

At once dismayed and amused, Grace scrambled to her feet and brushed the dirt off of her clothes. "No reason."

"You know," Luke began in a hurt tone as he got to his feet, "I thought after last night you'd stop picking on me just for the sake of it. I thought that we'd reached a mutual meeting of the hea—minds." He turned his back to her and fiercely slapped at the dirt on his tux. "Apparently, I was wrong."

Seeing Luke's angry disappointment, Grace felt her shoulders slump. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. Why did seeing him upset hurt her so much? Sighing, she laid her hand on his rigid back. He jerked away from her touch like she'd burned him.

"Hey," she called.

"What?"

"I wasn't picking on you."

"Uh-huh," he said disbelievingly as he lifted the blanket and began to shake it out.

Glaring at his back, Grace confessed, "I wanted to make sure you were awake."

Luke stopped and slowly glanced at her over his shoulder. "What?" he asked finally.

She stuffed her hands in her back pockets and gave him an embarrassed smile. "You seemed so comfortable waking up to find us together that I thought you might not realize it was really happening." He turned fully toward her, a slow grin spreading across his face. She looked away and shrugged. "Isn't this a little weird to you?"

"Yeah," he admitted softly. "But it's more nice than anything."

Grace opened her mouth and found that she didn't have any words. He'd literally struck her speechless. She cleared her throat and gestured vaguely toward the car. "We should go. My dad's probably freaking out right now."

"Wouldn't you consider that a good thing?" Luke asked as he headed to the car, pulling the keys from his pockets and popping the truck open.

"I rebel. I don't try to induce panic attacks and possible heart failure."

"Your dad has heart trouble?" Luke tossed the blanket in the trunk and closed it.

"No, I meant . . . forget it, geek." Grace turned toward the car and started in surprise. "Whose car is this?"

"Friedman's mom's."

Grace stared up at him, her expression a mix of amusement and confusion. "Why do you have Friedman's mom's car?"

"He gave me the keys. Said he thought someone may have spiked his punch." Luke shrugged. "When you left, I went after you without thinking about whose car I was driving."

"And _Crazy For You_ just happened to be in the stereo?"

Luke grinned. "His mom just got an eighties classics compilation. I know the probability of all that falling into place is exceptionally low, but I swear that's what happened," he said.

She didn't say anything for a minute. Then she broke out in a huge smile. "Friedman is so freaking out somewhere right now. I'd loved to see that."

Luke smiled as he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her a little closer. Grace's smile disappeared as he leaned toward her. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to kiss you."

"Dude, breath," she said, pointing to their mouths. "Bad on both ends."

He cupped her jaw, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "I don't care," he said as he claimed her lips.

Despite her concerns, Grace found herself leaning into him, her hands pressed against his chest. As his arm tightened around her waist and his hand slid from her jaw into her hair, she wondered what it would be like to be kissed like this all the time. Like she was the beginning, the middle, and the end of his world. She sighed against his lips as her hands fisted in his shirt and she arched into him. She could definitely get used to this.

An eternity later, Luke lifted his head. "Now we can go." He opened her door for her and closed it behind her after she got in. Then he got in himself, started the car and pulled off as "their" song began to play again.

They sang along with the songs while simultaneously making fun of them the entire ride to her house. Luke cut off the ignition and turned toward her. "Do you want me to walk you to the door?"

"I think I can get there on my own."

He grinned. "Can I see you tonight?"

"Probably not," she said, genuine regret in her voice.

"Tomorrow?"

Grace shook her head. "My parents will probably be all over me. The closer graduation gets, the clingier they become. But," she said when his face fell, "there's always instant messaging."

"I can live with that," he said as he brushed a quick kiss on her mouth.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't completely suppress her smile. "If you want your friend to see nightfall, or the afternoon even, you'd better return the car."

"Right," he said as she climbed out of the car. "Grace?"

"Yeah?" she asked, poking her head back in.

"You really are beautiful."

Her lips curled in their usual smirk, but she couldn't help feeling flattered. "Thanks." She closed the door and jogged up the walkway to her house, giving him a little wave before she went inside.

"Grace?" her father called as she closed the door behind her.

She felt her good mood plummet. The last thing she wanted to do right now was argue with her father. She considered ignoring him and going to her room when he said, "Grace, is that you?"

She sighed. "It's me," she said and plodded to his study. She found him sitting behind his desk, a binder resting on his lap.

He glanced up at her and arched an eyebrow at her outfit. "You didn't wear that to prom," he half asked.

"I changed around midnight," Grace said, not wanting to go into detail.

"Ah, the Cinderella effect," he said.

With a roll of her eyes, Grace said, "Mrs. Girardi took pictures. She said she'd send you the extra ones of me."

"That's nice of her. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah."

"Not too good a time?" he said with a pointed stare.

Grace considered saying she had indeed had that good a time, but the barely veiled sorrow she felt radiating from him stopped her. "Not too good a time."

Rabbi Polonski nodded. "I'm glad." He stood, set the binder on his desk, and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep, okay."

"Sure," she said, frowning at her father's unusual behavior. Why wasn't he laying into her for staying out all night without calling? "Dad?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

She grimaced at the endearment. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and gave her a sad smile, the same one he'd been giving her for the last month. "I'm fine. I just miss you."

"I haven't gone anywhere, Dad."

"You're about to," he said. "Get some sleep."

Grace watched her father climb the stairs and disappear down the hall, her brow furrowed in concern. Though she and her dad hadn't been close since she was ten, Grace couldn't help being worried about him. He was so sad all the time just like he'd been when all the mess with Aaron and Rachel happened. Even with the state of their relationship, she hated seeing him dejected. Figuring the binder might explain his melancholia, she took it upstairs with her and put it on the bed while she showered.

Half an hour later, she settled in her bed and flipped through the binder. It was a photo album with her name on the inside cover. It was filled with her baby pictures and photos of birthday parties and school activities. There were several shots of her with Adam and Ramsey, but there were even more of her with Aaron and Rachel. Aaron giving her a piggyback ride when she was five. Rachel putting lipstick on skeptical, six-year-old "princess" Grace's mouth. Aaron tickling a four-year-old Grace on the living room floor. Rachel showing Grace how to do some dance when she was seven.

Pages and pages of memories stopped right before her eleventh birthday. Rachel had just left and their mom had to leave home for a while too. Grace didn't have a party that year; she'd spent the week crying in her room. Try as he might, her father couldn't console her. As far as she was concerned it was all his fault. She'd never had another birthday party. Slowly, Grace closed the album and looked around her room. The bright yellow walls did nothing to make her to feel better.

A noise drew her attention to the laptop sitting on her desk. She climbed out of bed and lifted the monitor. In her rush to gather all of her prom things, she had forgotten to log off her computer. Now, an instant message waited for her response.

**GravityBoy:** Hey. Couldn't wait until later. Friedman's ride pulled up in front of his house just as I did so he drove me home. Somehow I don't think he's going to tell his mom I had the car. Then when I got home, Mom and Dad were giving Joan the third degree. Apparently, she was out all night, too. What did your dad say when you went in?

Grace sat at her desk, a tiny smile on her lips. Her hands were poised to answer when the little voice that had plagued her all night said, _It's just a matter of time, Grace._ She frowned, not entirely sure what the annoying little voice meant but hesitating anyway.

**GravityBoy:** Grace, are you there?

_Remember, he's going to MIT in the fall_, the voice reminded her. _Then what do you expect to happen? He could just as easily forget about you. Could you handle that?_

**GravityBoy:** I guess you're asleep. I'll IM you later. I'm really glad last night happened, Grace. I just want you to know that.

Watching the logged off notice flash on her screen, Grace wondered what she should do now. She knew that she didn't care about what dating Luke would do to her image. But what would dating him do to her? Could she really start something with him knowing that he was going to another state in a few short months? Was a summer romance (oh, God, but that sounded cheesy) worth the possibility of a fall breakup? Was it reasonable to expect him to make her a priority once he left for school when her own siblings hadn't?

She turned off her laptop and closed it before crawling back into bed. Once she was comfortable, she pulled the photo album into her arms and held it against her chest. She ignored the tears streaming over the bridge of her nose and into her ear.

"It's okay, Grace," Adam said, playfully bumping her shoulder with his and breaking her out of her reverie. "Three more weeks and we're out of here for good, yo,"

Grace simply slid her eyes from the school's façade to Adam's gaze, too freaked to find herself standing in front of the school to respond, let alone move.

Adam stared back, understanding immediately dawning on his face. She didn't know if this comforted her or not. Before his mother died, she and Adam had been so close, they had their own psychic shorthand, instantly grasping what the other felt or thought. Now, as he stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders, sympathy flooding his face, she wasn't sure if they still had that old connection or if her expression was that transparent.

"Luke's going to be crushed," Adam pointed out quietly.

She gazed back at him, feeling small and helpless the way she had when her father and brother would get into yet another screaming match.

He nodded as if he were answering a question she'd asked—maybe she had, God only knew what her face was saying—and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Resting his dark head against her blonde one, he gave her a small squeeze and asked, "Do you have to?"

Grace nodded.

Adam sighed. "Let him down easy, okay?" When she simply shrugged, he sighed again and nudged her toward the school.

They trudged up the steps and made their way to their respective lockers. Grace was just beginning to hope she'd dodged the Luke bullet for now when she felt a hand on the small of her back and knew that he was standing behind her.

"Hey," he greeted cautiously.

"Hey," she returned coolly. "I have to get to homeroom."

Luke frowned at her. "Since when do you care about getting to homeroom on time?"

"Since when do you not care?" she tossed back as she maneuvered around him and started down the hall at a brisk clip.

He followed her. "Grace, what's going on with you? If it's about prom night..."

Grace whirled on him, the scowl on her face contradicting the tightness in her chest. "Forget about prom night, geek boy."

"Forget about it?" he asked quietly. The disappointment and confusion he felt melded with the hurt her words caused. Grace's heart constricted painfully at the sight of his wounded eyes. God, why was she doing this? "You want to forget about it?"

"Yes," she hissed, hating herself even more when he flinched. "It's not going to happen between us, so just drop it."

She turned away only to be stopped by his hand on her arm. "Why are you doing this? Why didn't you IM me back this weekend?"

"I told you—because we're not going to happen, so just let it go."

"Okay, I get it. You're scared. You're afraid of how it'll look if we …"

"I don't give a damn how it'll look," she ground out, frustrated with him for making this harder for her. Didn't he know this was the last thing she wanted to do? "For the last time, you and me? Never. Going. To. Happen. There will never be a repeat performance and you should forget about the first one. Remember that because I'm not saying it again." With that, she stomped away, feeling like she was grinding her heart to dust with each footstep.

_It's better this way_, she told her protesting heart. _It really is better. This way it won't hurt so much when he leaves._

_You don't know that he will_, her heart replied. _He might surprise you._

_He already has_, she answered, resisting the urge to take one last glance at him. _But he'll still leave._

_You don't know that._

Grace slipped into her homeroom seat and stared out the window. The warm, beautiful May morning did nothing to alleviate the sadness hanging on her. The soft strains of someone humming reached her ears and she realized it was her. She was doing it again, humming that damn song Luke insisted on calling theirs. Just like she'd found herself doing all weekend. _Crazy For You_. Crazy. That's exactly what this whole situation was. Ridiculous. Ludicrous, even. She was Grace Polk, for goodness' sake. She did not get all emotional and heartbroken over boys. Especially not tall, skinny geeks with warm blue eyes that made her want to believe things could be different, better. Folding her arms on her desk, Grace dropped her face in them, hiding her turmoil from the rest of the room. What the hell had she been thinking to let things get this far? What had possessed her to let him get this close? What kind of masochist was she?

_You don't know that he'll leave_, her heart reiterated as if it hoped to change her mind.

"Yes, I do," she whispered. Grace knew better than her heart. It had happened too many times before to think that things would turn out differently just because she wanted them to. _They all leave_, she reminded her pathetic, optimistic heart. _Even him._


End file.
